


Rather Cliché

by RetroRabbit



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Eremin - Freeform, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroRabbit/pseuds/RetroRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>High School AU. Armin has his hands full dealing with bullies and tutoring the new transfer student, Eren Jaeger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a multi-chaptered fic. Slight angst and humor. Hopefully a lot of fluff. Enjoy.

CHAPTER ONE

The world stopped spinning, just for a moment. Armin had read this term in a book somewhere and had laughed at the notion, but on that day (a Monday, of all days, when surprising things had no right to happen) he thought he finally understood. It was the initial lurch in his stomach as his body kept rocketing through space while the ground he stood on fell behind for a fraction of a millisecond before starting up again, pretending it hadn’t happened. Somehow, in that moment, Armin had died, and heaven was a brown haired boy staring up at him with indignant green eyes.

Armin, when asked, would easily admit to being a tad dramatic.

The events leading up to heaven opening its gates had started that morning when he’d been called into his counselor’s office. Armin had met with his counselor only twice before; during his first week of freshman year, when the counselors were required to introduce themselves, and a week ago when Armin had stopped by inquiring about becoming a tutor. 

Levi had handed him a piece of paper ( _Room 117, Monday, Friday, Wednesday, 3:30-4:30_ ) saying “I’ve found someone for you to tutor.”

“Great!” Armin said, slipping the paper into his pocket. 

Levi took a sip of his coffee. “He doesn’t have the best track record, and his grades aren’t the greatest.”

“That’s okay,” Armin said, adjusting his backpack. That’s what tutors were for, after all. “What’s his name?”

“Eren Jaeger.”

XXX

Armin knew of Eren Jaeger from the whispers he overheard between classes. He and his adopted sister, Mikasa Ackerman, had moved to Shiganshina a couple months ago after he’d been expelled. Why he had been expelled no one seemed able to agree on. Armin had heard his classmates saying that he’d bitten someone’s ear clean off, attacked a teacher, set the school on fire, let a boa constrictor loose during the middle of gym class. He was sure there were more rumors, probably even more outlandish ones, but he was not privy to them.

Eren Jaeger’s expulsion did not warrant two weeks of the school rumor mill buzzing enough that even Armin heard about them, however. The boy had begun to build something of a reputation at Maria High School. He always argued—loudly—in class discussions, sometimes with the teachers; he had given Jean Kirschtein a black eye for some forgotten remark, though the teachers were, apparently, unaware of this; he’d been seen running to class, knocking down anyone who got in his way, to arrive only seconds before the bell rang.

Armin tried not to form opinions before meeting people, but he was a little uncertain about Eren Jaeger. He hoped he wasn’t going to turn into another source of stress for Armin. He had enough of those to deal with.

“Look who it is.”

Ah. Two of the said sources of stress towered over him, lips pulled into nasty smiles. Armin shrank back against the wall, eyes flicking around, searching for a way out. They found none, however, and shot back up to the two boys. They were huge, much larger than Armin, though much less intelligent and probably not as fast. Speed didn’t help him here, though, as the one on the left ripped his backpack from his shoulder and threw it down the hall. 

They said things, but Armin blocked it out. It was better that way. The punches were not as easy. He took them as well as he could, but one caught him in the mouth and he felt his inner lip scrape against the metal of his braces. Another punch to the stomach and he was on his knees, bloody saliva dripping to the floor.

“What a fucking joke,” he heard one of them say, and then they were gone. Armin got to his feet, wiping his mouth, and got his backpack. They weren’t even trying anymore. He wondered if it was because he stopped fighting back if they managed to catch him. They’d never been out to do serious damage, he knew, just to make his life a little more difficult, a touch (or punch, in this case) more painful. He wished they’d move on. 

He found his way to a bathroom, gargled water, and pulled his lip down to get a better look at the damage. It was split, but that didn’t hurt nearly as much as the squishy inside did.

It was only after he’d spent quite a few minutes trying to stop the flow of blood that he remembered.

“Oh no!”

He darted out of the bathroom, stumbled, almost ran headfirst into a row of lockers but managed to right himself, and took off down the hallway. He nearly fell down a flight of stairs, which had happened before on numerous occasions (though ‘pushed’ was a more accurate term in those cases), before skidding around a corner and, with relief, recognizing the hallway as the home of room 117. As he drew near to the door he tried to slow down, but before he could a body moved through the doorway, right into Armin’s path.

Armin managed to keep himself upright, though the other person let out an undignified “oof” and fell backwards. It was then that the boy looked up and Armin caught a glimpse of heaven, all brilliant lights and brunet angels. His mind contemplated the spinning rock he lived on while his mouth worked on ahead.

“I’m so sorry are you okay I didn’t mean to do you need to go to the nurse I’m sorry.” He snapped his mouth shut as the boy pushed himself to his elbows and began to say something (probably something vicious, going from the scowl on his face), but stopped and stared at Armin instead.

When nearly a full minute passed like this, Armin asked “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

And wouldn’t that be typical? His first tutoring session and he’d managed to not only be late, but give his first (ridiculously attractive) pupil a concussion. That would look great on his permanent record.

“What happened to your lip?” He asked, standing up. Armin nervously wiped at his mouth, but when he pulled his hand back there was no blood.

“I uh, I bit it when I fell down the stairs,” Armin said, which was almost the truth. This answer did not please the other boy, who crossed his arms and frowned.

“Bullshit,” he said. “Someone hit you. Who was it?”

Armin pushed a strand of hair out of his face in an attempt to hide his surprise. People didn’t question his excuses. They laughed, they called him clumsy, they moved on. 

“No one,” he insisted. “You’re Eren, right? I’m Armin, your tutor. Sorry I’m late. I got held up talking to a teacher. It won’t happen again, I promise.” He smiled, trying to ignore the stinging pain it caused. It faltered as Eren continued to scowl. He wondered if the boy would smile if he told him the truth, but doubted it. “We, uh, we don’t have much time left today but we could talk about what areas you’re having trouble with.”

In an effort to break free of those green (proper green, grass green, not the kind of grey-blue-hazel that people tried to pass off as green) eyes, Armin walked into the classroom and took a seat at a desk near the window. Eren followed, turning a desk around to face him. He dropped his backpack on the floor and plopped down in the chair.

“I’m having trouble with everything,” he admitted.

“That’s okay,” Armin said. He was pretty good at everything. He licked the inside of his lip, making it sting. He considered Eren for a moment, then said, “Before we get started, can I ask you a question?”

“Only if I get to ask you one,” Eren replied. Armin was pretty sure he was going to ask who had hit him again. He wasn’t sure he wanted that. But then Eren said, “Go ahead.”

“How did you get expelled from your old school?”

For a moment, Eren was taken off guard. It was an interesting sight. His eyes widened marginally, his eyebrows rose, his lips parted. Armin stared at him, wondering if he should have kept his question to himself, but couldn’t bring himself to regret asking. 

“I got drunk and blew up the science lab,” Eren said flatly. Armin didn’t say anything, trying to remember if that was one of the rumors he’d heard. He couldn’t recall. Eren shifted in his seat and added, “Mikasa said they called me Jaegerbomb after that.”

A surprised laugh bubbled out, despite the stinging of his lip. After a moment Eren’s lips curled into a smile. Armin thought it looked rather nice on him.

“How did you blow it up?” Armin asked.

“Things have a tendency to explode when I’m around,” Eren shrugged, averting his eyes to the window. When Armin laughed again he sunk down in his seat.

“My turn,” he said. He glanced back at Armin and remained silent. His brow furrowed and his lips turned down into a confused frown. He sat back up and leaned forward. “Why the fuck is the school mascot a wall?”

XXX

Armin arrived at work half an hour late. His grandfather grinned at him as he walked through the door, the tinkling bell announcing his presence. The scent of baking bread was a comfortable return to normalcy.

“You’re late, Armin,” the man said.

“Sorry grandpa,” Armin said as he put on his apron and walked around the counter. “I was tutoring and we lost track of time.” This was technically true, though no actual tutoring or learning happened. He had managed to get Eren to smile a couple more times and that was good enough for day one, he told himself.

“Just try to remember to call next time. What happened to your lip?” his grandpa asked as he drew nearer. 

“I bit it when I fell down the stairs,” Armin said, smiling and ducking his head a bit. His grandpa laughed and ruffled his hair.

“You’re far too clumsy, Armin.”

“I know, grandpa. I’m working on it.”


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Eren Jaeger would be the death of him, Armin decided as he darted down the hallway, easily slipping between the bodies of the other students as the larger boys chased him down, knocking them over. He was cute, certainly, especially when he smiled, and he was pretty funny when he uncomfortably asked questions about the school, and he got this look on his face when Armin laughed at something he said, like he was surprised and pleased and a little bit embarrassed all at once, and—

Oh no, it was thoughts like this that got him into his situation in the first place.

He’d managed to keep his mind Eren-free all morning. He’d focused on his class work, took detailed notes, and definitely did not doodle in the margins. At lunch, however, as he was slipping through the cracks in the crowd in a (successful) attempt to lose the hockey player who was following him, he felt eyes on him. With an entire crowd of irritable, hungry teenagers between them Armin was safe enough to look around. It didn’t take long to find Eren sitting at a table with a dark haired girl, watching him intently.

Armin didn’t have a whole lot of time, if the growing shouts of “hey!” “watch it!” “what a prick,” were any indication, so he gave a cheerful wave and quickly made for the exit. He ate lunch by himself, back against the chain link fence, under the shade of his favorite tree.

It was impossible to focus on his afternoon classes. He scribbled notes half heartedly. He doodled in the margins, then on the page. He found himself biting his lip, which brought him back to his senses as it was swollen and sore, only to have his thoughts drift away from him again minutes later. Hanji, his AP Science teacher, held him after class to ask him if he was okay. He laughed it off and she accepted it was a one-off thing, but Armin wondered how he was expected to concentrate on anything when he couldn’t stop thinking about Eren _staring_ at him like that.

He allowed himself to pretend it meant something as he left eighth period. His lips twitched up as he thought about it, and they remained that way until he bumped into someone incredibly solid. Looking up, Armin realized it was the hockey player from earlier. Next to him was one of the guys from yesterday (was he on the football team? Track? It was so hard to keep them all straight).

“You got me put in detention,” the hockey player said through gritted teeth. Armin didn’t waste time replying _well maybe if you hadn’t chased me in the first place_. He turned and ran. The sound of heavy footsteps behind him dashed any hope that they wouldn’t follow. Students glanced at him as he ran, but paid little attention, too focused on getting out of the building. At this point it was almost routine to see the small blond fleeing from boys much larger than himself, anyway.

He reached the staircase at a run and jumped, landed on his feet in a crouch and propelled himself forward. No time to marvel at the fact that he hadn’t broken his ankle, which was a shame because it was deserving of marvel. He made a sharp turn, one foot in the air, the other sliding on the ground, and ran face first into someone’s chest. 

As this happened, two thoughts crossed his mind. The first was that he was glad it wasn’t a girl, and the second was that he hoped it wasn’t another jock, though judging by the solidity of the person he was probably out of luck.

“Armin? Do you do this to everyone?” 

Eren had managed to remain standing this time, perhaps because Armin hadn’t caught him from the side. There was no time for mortification, because he could hear the thud thud thudding of running footsteps getting louder. He’d lost his momentum, though, and Eren was looking down at him with a frown, the dark haired girl from earlier by his side watching the exchange with a bland look.

“Uh, hi Eren.” Armin forced a smile and tossed his backpack up over the row of lockers. He jumped, fingers curling around the metal, and used the space the lock occupied to sink in his sneaker. He pushed off and pulled himself into the small space between the lockers and the ceiling. He rolled awkwardly so he was looking out, trying to keep his breathing under control and reminding himself that there was a great big space right in front of him that he could escape to once the danger had gone.

“What—“ he heard Eren’s voice say, but the owners of the footsteps had finally arrived.

_Breathe,_ he thought. _In two three four, out two three four. In two thr—_

“Where did he go?” one voice demanded. Probably the hockey player. Eren inhaled sharply, and Armin wondered if he was going to yell.

“Who?” It was not Eren’s voice, but the girl who was with him. She said it a little too quickly. 

There was a pause. The other boy said, “He probably went out the fucking window again. Come on.”

They ran off. Armin waited a bit longer than was necessary before scooting towards the edge and rolling off. He almost managed to land on his feet, but fell on his ass at the last second. He took Eren’s proffered hand and stood up.

“Fell down the stairs,” Eren said, scowling. Armin didn’t know what else to do but smile awkwardly.

“I mostly avoid them, but when I can’t they’re not usually able to catch me,” Armin said. He felt he had to give some sort of explanation. Eren was staring at the exit, looking distinctly like he wanted to follow them. “I’ve just been kind of, um, distracted lately. And it’s gotten better since Reiner became captain.”

He glanced at the girl standing next to Eren. She nodded at him and said, “I’m Mikasa. Eren’s sister.”

“Nice to meet you,” Armin said, shouldering his backpack and shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Eren, we have to go,” Mikasa said, moving around Armin and making for the exit. Eren followed, but called over his shoulder “Sit with us at lunch tomorrow.”

Armin grinned hugely, his lip splitting open once more, and said “okay.”

Blood dripped down his chin as they walked out the doors, leaving Armin alone in the hallway.

XXX

Armin stared at his mashed potatoes as he pushed them around his plate, absentmindedly making a mountain, hollowing out the inside, smushing it down until it was even, then repeating the process all over again. His thoughts were, as they had been most of the day, elsewhere. He did not notice his parents exchanging looks across the table.

His father cleared his throat, then did it again, louder, when Armin paid no notice. He coughed. He coughed louder.

“Armin,” he finally said. Armin jumped and guiltily looked up. His parents’ plates were empty while his own was still piled high. His mashed potatoes once more resembled a rather lumpy and pale mountain.

His mother smiled widely and said, “What’s his name?”

The reactions of the two Arlert males were identical. They shifted awkwardly, glanced around quickly for an escape and, finding none, sank slightly in their seats.

“Who’s name?” Armin asked miserably. Of all the conversations he did not want to have with his parents, this was pretty high on the list (right beneath the real reason behind his split lip but above admitting he wasn’t fond of his mother’s “famous lasagna” that she made for family reunions). 

“The boy you’re thinking about,” his mother prompted. She had no trouble saying things like this, unlike his father, who was taking an increasingly long drink of water to avoid having to say anything. Armin envied him. “Have you gotten yourself a boyfriend?”

“There’s no boy,” Armin lied, feeling his face heat up. Three years ago his father might have pitched in a hopeful “a girl, then?” but now he continued drinking his water. Armin thought he might be trying to drown himself. “I have a big test next week and I’m worried about it.”

At this news his father put down his empty glass (what would he have done if Armin had told them about Eren?) and said “I’m sure you’ll do fine, Armin.” And he was. He had a lot of confidence in his son, which made Armin fill with pride.

He could tell his mother was not convinced, and added, “I should really be studying right now. Can I take this to my room?”

“Go ahead,” his mother said. He grabbed his plate and went to his room, using his foot to close the door behind him. He placed the plate on his desk with the intention of sneaking it back in the fridge after his parents had gone to bed.

He plopped down on his mattress. Studying. Right. How was he supposed to study when he hadn’t had anyone to sit with at lunch since middle school?

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts before they could send him into a spiral of anxiety. He sat up and said “Come in.”

His mother walked in, closing the door behind her. Her eyes glanced at the uneaten food, but she made no mention of it. She pulled the chair out from under his desk and sat down.

“I know your father can be a little insensitive at times, but he just doesn’t really know how to talk about these things. He loves you and supports you,” she said. Armin was well aware of this, and told her so. She nodded. “Now then, what’s his name?”

Even in his room—which was supposed to be his sanctuary—he was not safe from the questions, the knowing smiles, the thoughtful “hmm”s as she teasingly pried information from him. But no, not this time. Not in his bedroom. It was time to take a stand.

“I don’t like your famous lasagna,” his mouth blurted out. Armin braced himself for… something. Mournful sobbing? Declarations of his ingratitude? He was not prepared for laughter.

It went on for a long time. “No one likes my famous lasagna, honey,” his mother finally said, wiping tears from her eyes. “It was my grandma’s recipe, and I was the only one she gave it to. My sisters have to eat it or they’ll insult her memory. Why do you think I only make it for family reunions?”

Thinking back, he couldn’t remember his mother ever having a piece of it; just smirking slightly as her sisters ate and piled on compliments through gritted teeth. 

When Armin didn’t reply, she leaned forward. “Now, his name?”

Armin, recognizing defeat, pouted. “Eren.”

“Eren,” his mother nodded. “I see. And is Eren cute?”

His face flushed and he reluctantly said, “Yes.” Then he added, “Very.” because if he was going to be put through this again he might as well be honest. 

“Is Eren gay?” his mother asked.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. She laughed again, stood up, and grabbed his plate.

“You should find out,” She said. “I’ll put this in the fridge for later.”

She left without another word. Armin blinked confusedly at the closed door. 

That was it? Twice before Armin had discovered himself with a crush, and twice before his mother had instantly recognized the signs and spent hours dragging information out of him. She was probably biding her time, he thought. For what he didn’t know, but it sounded like something she would do.

Still, he accepted the reprieve, flopping back down and letting worry wash over him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only reason I've been able to post a new chapter three days in a row is because I am neglecting my homework, so enjoy it while you can. I am.

CHAPTER THREE

It was the best time of the year. The overwhelming heat of summer was dying down and fall was only a short ways away. It was cool, breezy, and (for today, at least) sunny. Armin smiled to himself as the light filtered through the leaves, falling in bright patches on the grass. Mikasa sat next to him, reading a book she’d brought from home, and Eren was on her left, laying on his stomach as he puzzled over a problem in his textbook, finger tapping the ground rapidly.

Armin looked back down at his own textbook. He was trying to catch up on the homework he’d put off last night, with slight success. It was almost easy to ignore Eren when he was (mostly) still and quiet.

He wasn’t entirely sure how this had turned into a study session, but he was glad for it. They’d talked for a little while but then the conversation lulled and Armin didn’t know how to get it going again. Mikasa had pulled out her book, and Armin had taken this as a sign it was okay for him to do the same.

“I don’t get it,” Eren said, slamming his fist on the ground. He pushed himself into a sitting position.

Armin tried to get a look at what he was working on. “Geometry? Which problem—“

“Not the homework,” Eren snapped. “Why do you let those guys pick on you like that? You have to stand up for yourself or they’ll never leave you alone! You have to show them that you’re not going to take their shit laying down! How can you win if you don’t fight?”

Mikasa was watching Armin. Her eyes flicked to Eren for a moment at the last comment, but fixed themselves on Armin again in an instant. Eren was watching him too, waiting for a response.

Armin chewed on his pencil as he considered what to say. He could tell him that he had fought back, in the beginning, but it had only made it so much worse. He could tell him that running away was a form of fighting; that outwitting them was much more satisfying than using his fists. He could tell him that he looked beautiful like that, all righteous anger and blazing eyes.

Instead he said, “Have you considered a career in motivational speaking?”

Mikasa hid a smile behind her book, and Eren had that surprised look on his face again. Armin quite liked it. Eren’s face was very expressive, though it usually expressed frustration and anger. Anything that made his features smooth out like that was a good thing in Armin’s book.

“I—No,” he said.

“Hmm. You should,” Armin said after a moment, looking back down at his textbook. 

“Eren, don’t you need to see your counselor?” Mikasa asked, and Eren was on his feet, shoving his books into his bag and bolting towards the building with a cry of “shit!”

Armin laughed as he watched him go and saw that Mikasa was smiling, too. She turned the look to him and said, “I’ve never seen anyone diffuse Eren so quickly.”

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

Mikasa studied him as though he was a difficult puzzle. She shrugged and said, “Being friends with Eren can be difficult sometimes.”

He had only known Eren a few days; he couldn’t disagree with this. But he also knew that he hadn’t had such a lighthearted conversation with someone his age in years; that he’d never seen anyone get so worked up over Armin sporting a split lip; that Eren didn’t care enough about Armin’s reputation to not be friends. And so Armin said, “I think it’s worth it.”

“It is,” Mikasa nodded. She looked back down at her book, and Armin returned to his homework, feeling like he’d passed some kind of test.

XXX

This was the first real day of tutoring, and Armin was handling it rather well. It helped that Eren was determined to learn the material, though he did sometimes get distracted. Eren, Armin discovered, learned by doing.

“I got the wrong answer,” Eren frowned, checking the back of his math book. As it turned out, he had been having trouble with the problems at lunch. “It worked last time…”

Armin looked over Eren’s work. It had been difficult to decipher at first, but once he realized that those long strokes with the tiny dip at the top were sevens it wasn’t so hard. 

“You forgot to divide here. Look.” Armin pointed, and Eren went back to his work. Armin pretended to write in his own notebook, but peered at Eren through his bangs. He was writing quickly, the tip of his tongue poking out, his desk shaking as he jiggled his leg up and down.

He thought of his mother’s advice and wondered what exactly she expected him to do. He couldn’t exactly blurt out “hey Eren, are you gay?” At best it would be horribly awkward; at worst Eren would be offended and ask for a different tutor and Armin would be back to eating lunch by himself every day. 

“There,” Eren said, grinning. “Math homework done. I think I understood most of it, too.”

“That’s great,” Armin said. “Do you want to work on Science or English next?”

“I want to take a break,” Eren said, lifting his arms and stretching. Armin dropped his eyes to his notebook so he wouldn’t stare. “We’ve been working on this for like 45 minutes.”

“36,” Armin corrected, glancing at the clock.

“Whatever. Too long. Are you gonna come to the game on Friday?” he asked.

“What game?” Armin asked, frowning.

“The football game,” said Eren incredulously. “It’s at five. Are you gonna come?”

“I don’t think so,” Armin said. “I don’t really follow football. And I work Friday.”

“You have a job? Where?” Eren twirled his pencil in his fingers as he spoke. 

“At my grandfather’s bakery,” Armin said, and recalled with great clarity the smell of the place. Nothing smelled quite as good as baked goods. “I work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.”

“You should ask off,” Eren said, stopping the twirling and shooting him a grin. “We can buy that shitty concession stand food and get good seats and scream at the opposing team. Or maybe at our team if they’re as fucking awful as I’m expecting. We’ll even have time for studying beforehand. Come on, it’ll be fun.” 

Armin wanted to say no, that he’d already been late the day before and he was supposed to turn in a request at least a week before taking a day off. But the prospect of spending time with Eren—outside of school, like they were proper friends—was too tempting to pass up.

“I’ll ask,” Armin agreed, and took a moment to bask in the brilliant smile Eren awarded him. “Okay, so Science or English?”

XXX

His grandfather had been overjoyed to give him the day off once he mentioned it was to spend time with a friend. Armin tried not to be embarrassed but it was difficult when his grandfather sent him home that night with a slew of “good luck!” “have fun!” and “just be yourself!”

He had the day off and that was the important part. He informed Eren Friday morning when he found the two sitting on the stairs in what was quickly becoming their ‘morning spot’ and Eren threw an arm over his shoulders and said “great! Mikasa can get the food and we’ll fight for some good seats.”

Armin smiled at Mikasa, trying to fight off both a blush (because Eren’s arm was still there) and a crushing disappointment (because really, he should have expected Mikasa would come.) He had a feeling Mikasa could see right through him in that moment and squirmed under her gaze. Eren’s arm dropped from his shoulder and Mikasa smiled back, saying “It’ll be fun.”

But the way she said it made it sound like _I’m sorry._

Armin was getting better at forcing Eren from his mind when he was trying to focus on class work. He still doodled in the margins a little, but it was a learning process.

At lunch Eren approached their tree like a raincloud. He dropped to the ground and shoved a piece of paper towards Armin.

“This isn’t good enough!” he shouted, crossing his arms and scowling.

It was a math test. There were a few red marks on it from the teacher, and in the top corner was a B-.

“What’s wrong with it? You did well,” Armin said, handing it back to him.

“He has to have a solid B average in all his classes so he can try out for football next year,” Mikasa explained. She directed the next part at Eren. “But he’s forgetting that he’s only had a tutor for a couple of days, and that it’s going to take awhile.”

Eren didn’t hear her. He was on his back, hands covering his face as he morosely said “an entire _year_.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes and left Eren to his whining. She turned to Armin and said, “He has to keep himself out of trouble and get his grades up or his counselor won’t give him his recommendation next year.”

“Why does he need his recommendation?” Armin asked. He didn’t know much about the sports teams, but he didn’t think the counselors had a say in who was allowed.

“Because he was expelled. And before that he wasn’t exactly a great student,” Mikasa shrugged. Eren shot a glare at her. 

Eren groaned. “What kind of shit school makes you have a B average to be on the football team? At my school all you had to do was pass.”

“One that cares about academics?” Armin guessed. 

“We’re not going to the pep rally, right?” Mikasa asked. 

Eren wrinkled his nose. “Fuck no.” 

He thought for a moment, then said to Armin, “Unless you want to.”

Armin certainly did not want to. There were going to be plenty of opportunities for the football team to gang up on him; he wasn’t going to help out by presenting them one on a silver platter.

XXX

“What the fuck kind of shitty pass was that?!” 

Eren really liked football. He watched the game with a severe intensity. He shot to his feet, hands cupped around his mouth as he yelled, then regretfully sat back down until another opportunity arose to do so again. He cheered, loudly, fist punching the air. It was best not to sit too close to him, but this was impossible when the bleachers were packed. 

Mikasa had taken a seat on the other side of Armin, which had confused him at first because she was usually next to Eren, but after Eren’s fist smacked the side of his head on its ascent (the second time), he understood.

“Eren, calm down before you give Armin a concussion,” she said. She didn’t seem too excited by the game, but Mikasa didn’t get excited by much. She was a calm contrast to Eren’s boundless energy. Despite his earlier misgivings, Armin was glad she was here. 

“Sorry,” Eren said, sitting back down. “This is fucking embarrassing.”

Their team was not doing well. They rarely did when they played the Titans, who were built like brick walls and had the intelligence of them, too.

“What the fuck is the wall doing?” Eren asked, and Armin turned his attention back to the field for the first time in awhile. 

Their mascot—an off-white padded rectangle with the school crest on the front—was doing a little jig as the cheerleaders formed a pyramid. As it was doing a happy twirl it stumbled, colliding with the pyramid. It collapsed, and high pitched shrieks that are only found in the throats of teenage girls filled the air.

“Are they okay?” Armin asked, leaning forward, and jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Eren used him to stabilize himself, his other arm wrapping around his stomach as he laughed. Tears formed in his eyes and he took gasping breaths as his entire body shook. 

There was that feeling in his stomach again; a flipping sensation, tingling, fluttering. The feeling that occurred when the roller coaster began its descent; when he missed a step on the stairs; when time stopped and all the air was sucked out of his lungs.

_Oh_ , Armin thought, and that was all.

“Did you see—they fucking—all over—“ Eren could not force a full sentence out of his mouth. His face was turning red. 

Armin forced his gaze away, looking at Mikasa, wondering if he was okay, and saw that her shoulders were shaking, a hand covering her mouth. She maintained control much better than Eren and sobered up quickly when she noticed Armin’s surprised look. A smile remained on her face as she reached over and slapped Eren on the back.

“Breathe,” she commanded, which made Eren laugh harder.

On the field, one of the cheerleaders escaped the pile, dragging her pompoms out with her, and used them to hit the mascot while she screamed “Again?! Again!? We talked about this, Connie!”

They left at that point, because it was either leave or be escorted out; Eren was causing a bit of a commotion. He sat on the ground, back against the wall of the school. He drank Armin’s soda in between bouts of laughter. 

“Think someone got that on video?” He asked Armin.

Mikasa leaned against the wall next to him, talking on her cell phone.

“No, mom, we can take a bus,” she said into it. “I know. Yes. No. He’s fine. Eren’s laughing. Because the mascot knocked over the cheerleading pyramid. I don’t think so. No. No. Because it was funny. No, we left early. Because Eren couldn’t stop laughing. Yes. We’re not in trouble. Yes. I’m sure. Okay. Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Okay. I love you too.”

She hung up looking a little annoyed. “Mom’s on her way,” she told Eren, who nodded.

“I should get going,” Armin said, adjusting his backpack.

“Our mom could probably drop you off at home,” Eren said.

“That’s okay. I don’t live that far away. I’ll see you guys Monday.”

He left, his stomach doing that _thing_ because Eren had smiled at him as he turned to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Over the next few weeks Armin fell into something of a routine. He met up with Mikasa and Eren before classes, tried to focus on class work with varying levels of success, took the long way around to the hallway where they ate lunch because it was getting too cold outside, and sat through the rest of his class periods. Three days of the week he tutored Eren for an hour, then headed to work. The other four he spent doing homework and messing around online. He had given Eren his number in case he needed help with a problem at home, but he hadn’t yet received a call.

It was a nice routine. Armin grew fond of it immediately. Eren tried to drag him to more football games, but Armin didn’t want to push his luck and declined. After each game they lost, the bullying would pick up for a few days and Armin would have to be extra careful when moving through the school. Eren became increasingly agitated every time he saw Armin duck into an empty classroom, or casually hide in a crowd of students.

“Why do they pick on you so much?” He ranted during lunch. “It can’t just be because you’re smaller than them. There are tons of people smaller than you. Like most of the freshman class.”

Armin watched him from his spot on the floor, textbook open in his lap. Eren paced back and forth. “Yeah, but most of the freshman class isn’t gay.”

He felt a little bad for the misleading comment but that disappeared when Eren stopped mid-step and stared at him.

“You’re gay?” He asked.

There was a moment of silence before Armin glanced at Mikasa. She stared at Eren incredulously.

“Yeah?” he said uncertainly. He thought Eren knew. Everyone knew about the gay little blond boy the sports teams spent an ungodly amount of time trying to corner after another lost game. Worry knotted in his stomach as Eren remained frozen. 

“But that’s—“ He finally sputtered. “That’s so stupid! No one cares about that shit anymore!”

“Yeah,” Armin said, relaxing. “It’s dumb.”

“Drop it, Eren,” Mikasa said, and glanced at Armin; he might as well have been a window with the way she saw right through him.

Eren didn’t bring up the topic again, and Armin pushed it to the back of his mind. The routine continued, and Armin was pleased.

But then Eren began acting strange. He came to school completely ravenous. He usually didn’t eat much, Armin had noted. He offered some of his lunch after Eren had decimated his own despite Mikasa shaking her head in warning. Eren practically inhaled it. Armin brought two lunches after that.

He also… calmed down, kind of. Sometimes he didn’t move at all, save for the rise and fall of his chest. Armin had grown accustomed to his jittering, and it was disconcerting seeing him completely still. His eyes unfocused and it took multiple cries of “Eren! Hello? Eren!” to bring him back. Other times he was incredibly energetic. It was these moments that Armin dreaded. Eren forgot the concept of personal space in his excitement.

This first time this occurred was on a Tuesday before 1st period, when Armin’s doodling stole his attention from the game he was swearing at and he leaned over Armin’s lap to get a better look and frowned at it. “What is that? Is that a horse?” He looked up, and his face was only inches from Armin’s. He jerked back, a blush spreading across his face.

“N-No,” Armin said, wishing desperately for an escape, which came in the form of Mikasa. She put her hand on Eren’s shoulder and pushed, causing him to slide down the stair he sat on to the floor. 

“What was that for?!” he demanded, jumping to his feet.

“You’re being an idiot,” she told him. “It’s obviously a dog.”

Mikasa quickly became Armin’s savior. She nudged Eren out of the way when he leaned too close, pulled his attention away when he picked at uncomfortable topics, and, during one memorable occasion, knocked into him so hard he fell to the floor when he took Armin’s face between his hands, saying, “No, you don’t understand!”   
She permitted him to ruffle Armin’s hair (which he did quite a lot), and to throw his arm over his shoulder, for which Armin was both grateful and embarrassed. 

After every altercation she sent Armin an apologetic look. He avoided looking at it. He really was pathetic.

Mikasa was not always around, or quick enough to intercept everything, however. The most obvious (and embarrassing) example of this was when they were walking to lunch and Armin spotted one of the members of the football team. He made to duck into a classroom before he was spotted, but Eren grabbed his wrist with an impatient, “I’m _hungry._ ”

And, before Armin or Mikasa had time to react, he lifted Armin off the ground and threw him over his shoulder. He carried him all the way to the lunch line, ignoring his protests.

A far less embarrassing moment happened a few days later. Immediately after 8th period Eren appeared at the door of Hanji’s classroom, panting heavily. 

“Armin!” He yelled, attracting the attention of everyone in the room and the hall outside. “You have to see this!”

He grabbed Armin’s hand and took off down the hallway, dragging the smaller boy along easily. 

“Eren, what—“ Armin managed to get out as he stumbled.

“Come on! You’ll see!” He called back as they rounded a corner. He stopped instantly and Armin slammed into his back.

“Eren?” He asked, peering around him. 

They were in front of the gymnasium. They were the only ones openly watching, though students all down the hall were sneaking looks. A tall girl with dark hair caught Armin’s eye and smirked.

“I quit!” Connie screamed. He held his mascot costume in his arms and was shaking with rage. “I didn’t even want to do this in the first place! I only agreed because you asked me to and I am sick of this shit!”

He threw the costume at the feet of the cheerleading squad and turned on his heel, stalking away.

“Connie, wait!” A red haired girl called. She made to chase after him but another cheerleader caught her arm.

“We have practice, Sasha!” she said.

“Fuck off, Mina,” Sasha snapped, throwing her pompoms in the girl’s face. She broke free of the grasp and took off, calling “Connie, I’m sorry!”

“It’s like a fucking soap opera,” Eren laughed as the cheerleaders disappeared into the gym. The other students, accepting that the show was over, went about their business but Eren grabbed onto Armin, laughing uproariously. “God, when she fucking threw her pompom—“

The rest of the sentence was swallowed by his laughter. Armin tried to lead him to the wall so he could sit down, but all Eren did was bury his face into Armin’s shoulder. His hair tickled Armin’s neck.

“Eren, come on,” he said quietly, trying to scoot away. “People are staring at us now.”

Eren was not prepared for his support leaving and stumbled. He fell, and brought Armin down with him in an ungraceful heap. He only laughed louder, and Armin couldn’t help but laugh with him, despite his red face.

The most worrisome change was his lack of interest during their tutoring sessions. He hadn’t been particularly interested in the subject matter to begin with, but he attacked the assignments with fierce determination; it had begun to pay off, too. He’d slapped down a science test onto a desk two weeks earlier with a triumphant grin; he’d gotten a B+.

But now Armin had trouble getting him to focus on his work for longer than ten minutes at a time. 

“Are you okay, Eren?” he finally asked as Eren stared blankly out of the window. It was Friday and he’d been doing this for 15 minutes. The last time Armin had broken him out of his daze he’d been irritable and angry, so he’d hoped he might snap out of it himself this time. 

“Eren? Eren!” Armin huffed, stood up, and leaned over the desk. He snapped his fingers in front of the boy’s face. “Hey, Eren!”

Eren jumped and looked around, as thought surprised to find himself in room 117. He focused on Armin as he sat back down and said, “What?”

Armin bit his lip and asked, “Are you okay? You’ve been acting kind of weird lately.”

To Armin’s complete surprise, Eren’s face turned pink and he looked away. He tried to commit the image to memory; he’d never seen Eren blush before.

“I’m fine,” he said. When Armin stared at him in disbelief he relented. “I’m trying new medication. I don’t think it’s working out.”

Armin sometimes wondered if he had a secondary brain connected to his mouth somehow, because it often worked of its own accord. He tried to control it, he did. He was just really, really bad at it.

“What for?” He blurted.

Eren shrugged. “The new ones are for ADHD.”

“Oh,” He said, and tried to leave it at that. But at his core, Armin thirsted for knowledge of all kinds. This was the only excuse he had when, seeing how incredibly uncomfortable Eren was, he still asked, “Do you take other medication?”

Eren nodded jerkily, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. 

_No more questions_ , Armin told himself. _Drop it._

The silence that fell was thick and heavy. It weighed on Armin until he wished he would have just asked. 

Eren sighed, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “They’re for depression and bi-polar disorder.”

“Oh,” Armin said again. That made sense, kind of. 

Eren, still looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, said, “The last ones I was on mostly helped but made me lose my appetite.”

Armin nodded, unsure of what else to do.

“I’m gonna ask for different ones next week. You’re supposed to try them for at least a month, but…” He shrugged again.

Armin smiled at him. “Hopefully the next ones won’t have any side effects.”

Eren returned a small, strained smile. “Yeah. Hopefully.”

XXX

Procrastination was something Armin struggled with. He worked as quickly as he learned so it never presented a real problem. He had a science test on Monday he needed to study for, but spent Saturday on his computer, pretending science and tests and textbooks didn't exist.

Sunday morning was spent the same way, but after lunch he dutifully pulled out his textbook and notes and began looking them over. He only managed this for about five minutes before his cell phone rang.

He let it continue for a few seconds as he stared at it oddly; his phone did not ring. People did not call him. He glanced at the number but didn't recognize it.

He answered it with a hesitant, "Hello?"

"Thank fucking god. Can you come over?" Eren's voiced asked.

"Eren?" Armin asked, just to be sure.

"Yeah, it's me. So can you?" He sounded irritable.

Armin looked guiltily at his notes. "Well, I--I mean I have--"

"Please?" He was almost whining.

"Okay," Armin said, chewing on his lower lip. He had told Eren to call if he was having trouble with homework, after all, and it would be easier to help in person. Armin could probably get some of his studying done there, and there was always lunch tomorrow.

"Great!" Eren's voice said.

"What's your address?" Armin asked, but Eren had hung up. He was about to do a quick google search when his phone beeped. Eren had texted him the address. It was quite a distance away.

"Hey, Mom?" He asked, walking into the living room where his parents were curled up on the couch. "Can you take me to a friend's house?"

The knowing smile that spread across her face was enough to make Armin consider walking. "Of course."

He expected the ride to Eren's house to be filled with prying questions from his mother, but instead there was only silence and a perpetual little smile on his mother's face. He would have preferred the questions.

"Stop that," he finally said, squirming.

"Stop what?" she asked.

"Nothing. Nevermind." He sank down and crossed his arms as they pulled into the driveway. 

"Have fun, honey," she said. "Call me when you're ready to come home."

"Thanks," he said, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car. "See you later."

He watched her drive off with a wave and turned to look at the house. It was large; much larger than Armin's tiny apartment, and it sat between two identical houses which, in turn, looked exactly like the houses all down the street. It was very... cookie cutter.

He rang the doorbell and the door instantly opened to reveal Mikasa in black pajama pants and tank top, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail. 

"I'm sorry," she said, and stepped aside so Armin could come in. He found himself in a hallway, facing a staircase. He glanced at the pictures hanging on the walls and smiled at the miniature versions of his friends.

"What for?" he asked, but didn't hear Mikasa's response because his attention was pulled towards Eren, who jumped down the staircase and grabbed Armin's hand.

"Finally," he said, yanking him upstairs. "Come on!"

Armin took a moment to reflect on why it was that he so often found himself being pulled along by Eren to an unknown destination. He decided it didn't matter, as long as Eren was holding his hand.

"I thought you'd never get here," Eren said, dragging him through a doorway. "You took forever."

He dropped his hand and plopped down on the floor. 

"It's been half an hour, Eren," Armin said, taking in Eren’s bedroom. It was a little bit messy, and his walls were covered with football and band posters. His bed was unmade; a blue comforter lay in a pile at the foot of the mattress.

"Exactly," he said. "C'mon, play Mario Kart with me."

"W-what? I thought you needed help with homework," Armin said.

"Nah, I finished that yesterday," Eren said, digging around his television. "I know that fucking controller's here somewhere."

"Eren, I have to study! I have a test tomorrow!" Armin's voice reached an embarrassingly high pitch. He bit his lip and calmed himself. "Why can't you play with Mikasa?"

Eren pulled himself back, two controllers in his hands, and a dark look crossed his face. "She always wins. Always."

Armin opened his mouth to reply, but shut it when he realized he had nothing to say in return to this matter-of-fact statement.

"Why do you need to study, anyway? You already know everything. I don't know why you don't just skip two grades and graduate," Eren said, turning on his console and tossing a controller to Armin.

Armin caught it with difficulty and dropped his backpack to the ground, blushing. "I can only stay for an hour. Then I have to go home and study."

Eren accepted this with a toothy grin and Armin's breath caught in his throat. Maybe two hours. He could work with two hours.

"Okay, who are you gonna be? ’Cause Yoshi's mine."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Two hours turned into three, and three into four. They lost interest in Mario Kart and cycled through Eren’s multiplayer games. Mikasa joined them at some point, but declined Armin’s offer to play saying, “Eren hates playing video games with me.”

“Because you always win!” Eren cried, and let Mikasa play Armin. After she thoroughly trounced him five times in a row he snatched the controller back. “Do you see?”

“I see,” Armin laughed. 

“What else do you want to play? We haven’t done Pokémon Stadium yet,” Eren said as the doorbell rang. He jumped to his feet. “Pizza’s here!”

Armin followed him at a sedate pace, thinking guiltily of his backpack, which had been kicked into a corner of Eren’s room not long after his arrival.

He walked down stairs and followed the voices to locate the kitchen. He paused just outside of it, gathering his courage before walking in.

“Grab a plate,” Eren told him. He already had one that was piled high with pizza and chips. Armin did as he was told and smiled at Eren and Mikasa’s parents.

“Thank you for having me over Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger,” he said awkwardly, realizing for the first time that Eren might not have asked permission, or that they hadn’t expected him to stay long enough for dinner.

“We’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” Mr. Jaeger said.

“We weren’t sure what kind of toppings you liked,” Mikasa said as she moved to stand next to him. “There’s plain cheese over there if you don’t like anything else.”

Armin grabbed a slice of pepperoni and one of cheese, and poured himself a glass of soda as Eren waited impatiently near the door.

“It’s kind of you to tutor Eren. His grades have improved so much,” Mrs. Jaeger smiled. Armin smiled back.

“He does all the work,” he said. “I just explain stuff sometimes.”

“C’mon,” Eren said, rolling his eyes and led him back up to his room.

As they were walking out Armin heard Mikasa irritably say, “He’s practically a saint.”

“Wanna watch a movie?” Eren asked through a mouthful of food. Armin glanced at his plate, then at his backpack. Outside, the sun was setting.

“I should really be getting home, Eren,” he said regretfully. “I need to study.”

Eren groaned, sliding from his bed to the floor, pizza forgotten. He pulled a box out from under his bed. “You said you haven’t seen any of Dexter yet. One episode?”

Armin chewed on his lip, trying not to look at Eren’s face but finding his eyes slipping back to it anyway. He held a DVD box set in his hands and stared hopefully up at him.

“One episode,” Armin said, sitting on the floor. “One.”

Eren was not the best person to watch television with. He talked excitedly through the character and plot building scenes, and nudged Armin when the action began to pick up, saying, “This is the best part! Watch!” 

Halfway through the episode he disappeared downstairs, and when he returned his arms were laden with various sweets and junk food. He dropped them on the floor and threw a Twizzler to Armin. “You like those, right?”

Of course, after finishing the first episode he had to watch the second and—wait! The third one is where it really gets good! But C’mon, you wanna know what happens, right? They explain stuff better in episode four.

Eventually they fell asleep on the floor surrounded by empty candy wrappers, Armin’s backpack forgotten in the corner.

XXX

He wasn’t aware of what woke him. He was comfortable, curled against something warm and soft. Something heavy was around his waist and his head was pleasantly fuzzy with sleep. He didn’t usually wake up before his alarm, but he did have to use the bathroom. It would be such a shame to abandon this warmth, though.

He opened his eyes slightly and was met with an expanse of dark green. Upon closer inspection the green belonged to fabric; he could see the fibers clearly when he opened his eyes a little more and was happy for the early morning light.

As his brain began working a little faster he recognized the sound of even breathing coming from somewhere directly above his head. He looked up and his eyes widened so much he distantly wondered if they were in danger of popping out. Any pleasant sleepiness fled his body as he took in Eren’s sleeping face; the fact that his arm was draped around his waist; that their legs were tangled together.

“Armin,” a quiet voice said from behind him. He would have let out a surprised shriek had his voice not abandoned him. “Are you awake yet?”

“M-Mikasa?” Armin whispered. He daren’t move in fear of waking his sleeping friend.

“Just push him off,” she said. “He sleeps like a rock.”

“But—“ But what if he woke up? But what if he saw? But what if he realized? But what if he didn’t want to be friends anymore? 

He didn’t say any of those things. He only said “But—“ and Mikasa understood, or seemed to, that he couldn’t move from this position and he couldn’t stay, either. He felt her small hands dig themselves under his arms and she pulled. He slipped easily from Eren’s grasp. The boy curled in on himself slightly from the lack of warmth; beyond that he made no indication of waking up.

Armin scrambled to his feet, face flaming, to face Mikasa. He was lightheaded. “I didn’t—I mean, it wasn’t—We were watching this—and we fell asleep but—“

Mikasa patiently let him stumble out his explanation, watching with unreadable eyes. She glanced at Eren and said, “It’s okay. We have to get ready for school. You can take the shower first.”

“School,” Armin repeated blankly. “Oh my god, my parents! What time is it?”

“7 o’clock,” Mikasa told him calmly, leading him out of the bedroom. “I called your parents last night. They said it was okay. Your dad’s kind of weird.”

She gave him a gentle push into the bathroom and turned on the light.

“Take a shower,” she said. “I’ll wake Eren up and we’ll find something you can wear.”

She closed the door. Armin stood there for a long moment, staring at himself in the mirror. His face was still tinged pink and he looked shell shocked. His hair was sticking up and, yes, that was a wrapper stuck to his cheek. He pulled it off and, with no other options becoming clear, took a shower.

XXX

There was a pile of clothes on the sink when he stepped out of the shower. He put them on and was surprised to find that they fit decently. The pants were a little long, but that was okay. The shirt, though…

It had a Nike logo on it.

This in and of itself was not a problem. The Nike logo was on a lot of things, and that was generally accepted as okay. The Nike logo was not, however, on anything that Armin wore or owned, and there was a very good reason for that. 

He would just ask Eren—No, he would ask Mikasa for a different shirt. He didn’t think he could even look at Eren without returning to his previous bright red state and spluttering nonsense. Could he enlist Mikasa’s help to avoid him? Probably not. She’d already saved him once today. He couldn’t ask her to do it again.

He stepped out of the bathroom and was nearly trampled by two blurs rushing around him. He heard the door slam and turned to see Eren pounding on it, yelling furiously, “You get it first every god damned day!”

He huffed, dropped the clothes he was holding, and crossed his arms. He finally noticed Armin and said, “Oh, good, they fit.”

“Yeah,” Armin said, looking anywhere but at Eren. “Thanks. But is there another shirt I could…” he trailed off.

“What’s wrong with that shirt?” Eren asked. He sounded a little insulted. Armin shrugged. “Everything else I have would be too big on you. That stuff’s from a few years ago. You okay?”

“Yeah, just hungry,” Armin lied, staring at the floor.

XXX

The drive to school was tense and quiet. He had his nose buried in his textbook, trying to soak in all the information he could while Eren and Mikasa responded to their mother’s questions about school. Mrs. Jaeger dropped them off with a cheerful, “Have a good day! It was nice to meet you, Armin.”

Mikasa and Eren took turns pulling him out of the way of people in the halls because he didn’t have time to look away from his notes. He didn’t notice them looking at each other worriedly, trying to communicate silently through facial expressions. Had he seen this he would have thought it hilarious.

“Armin?” Mikasa asked as they reached their usual stairwell. He tore his eyes from the page he was frantically re-reading. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve never failed a test before!” he said, voice bordering on hysteric. He went back to his studying and another voiceless conversation took place. He jumped when he felt someone sit beside him; they usually sat one person to a stair so they didn’t block the way for other students.

“You’re not gonna fail,” Eren told him, grinning. “You already know all this stuff.”

Armin looked back down at his book, letting his hair cover his face so Eren wouldn’t see the way it turned pink. He couldn’t hide it from Mikasa, though, who sighed (with sympathy? Pity?) and said, “Leave him alone, Eren. This is your fault anyway. Let him study.”

To Armin’s great relief, Eren didn’t say anything after that. The bell rang and they dispersed; Eren and Mikasa heading to English and Armin to AP History.

He tried to get studying done in his classes, but he couldn’t keep switching between trying to study old notes and trying to take new ones. It left him confused and with the feeling that he hadn’t learned anything at all. He couldn’t study as he walked between classes, either, because Eren and Mikasa weren’t there to make sure he didn’t bump into anyone, and the stupid Nike logo might as well have been a target for all the dirty looks it got him. People bumped into him with unnecessary force. They tried to trip him as he walked through the halls; others tried kicking. One connected with his shin, and Armin limped his way to lunch.

He didn’t eat. He sat with Mikasa and Eren, but couldn’t focus. He kept glancing from the hallway, where he expected an angry jock (or ten) to round the corner, to his textbook, to the window that was clear from his position on the floor. It was half open, as always, and it was a straight shot to his tree, his spot, his sanctuary where no one would bother him.

The bell rang far too soon and Armin felt close to tears. Eren and Mikasa walked with him down the hallway, because their classes were in the same direction, and Eren glared death at anyone who got too close.

“Why are you limping?” He demanded as they walked. Armin didn’t say anything.

They passed Ymir and her girlfriend Christa on the way, and Ymir offered him a smirk over the top of Christa’s head. He smiled tensely back, but was distracted by Eren growling, “Was it her? Did she do it? I’ll kick her ass.”

Mikasa was poised to pounce on her brother, Armin saw, but he grabbed Eren’s wrist the way the brunet had done to him so many times and said, “She didn’t do anything. She’s my friend.” He skipped half a beat before the word, because it wasn’t quite true but he didn’t know what else to call her. Acquaintance? Comrade?

“This is us,” Mikasa said, tugging Eren into the room. “Good luck on your test, Armin.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, and wondered how it would feel to receive a failing grade.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Eren Jaeger often had strange dreams. They mostly contained blood and screaming and glinting blades. Sometimes they featured a face, skinless, with too many teeth. Very occasionally he would see his sister, scared and trembling, and would wake up with anger burning in his chest.

He typically did not dream about feeling lithe blond boys curling up beside him, hand loosely grabbing his shirt, and blearily opening his eyes to see his bedroom lit by the television screen. He didn’t dream about shifting into a more comfortable position, one arm under his head, the other wrapping around the sleeping boy’s waist, pulling him closer, leg slipping between his. He didn’t dream about the pleased, sleepy sigh that quietly escaped his friend’s mouth, or the soft smile that pulled at his own lips as he closed his eyes.

Or, more accurately, he hadn’t until Armin spent the night.

He was quite certain it was a dream because of one undeniable fact: he was not being teased about it.

He had woken up on his floor, Mikasa standing over him saying, “Wake up. Find something that will fit Armin,” with no hint of anything besides a little boredom.

And Armin, who had woken up before him, would surely have said something completely unexpected, something that made Eren’s brain backtrack for a moment as though trying to find where he’d lost control over the conversation. He would say it with a little smile and amused blue eyes; something like “Trying to take advantage of me, Jaeger?” and Eren would be left with nothing to do but stumble indignantly over his words.

And god, if his parents had seen he’d never hear the end of it. His mother would be following him through school right now, demanding answers, making jokes, asking when the wedding was.

But none of that happened, and so Eren reached the conclusion that it was a dream. It was a weird thing to dream about, though.

He didn’t dwell on it. Partly because the more he thought about it the more uncomfortable he became, but mostly because Armin was close to having a panic attack and the sinking guilt washing over him pushed everything else out of his mind.

“You’re not gonna fail,” he told Armin as they sat on their staircase. He sat next to him, acting as a shield between him and the people going up or down, because they had a tendency to “accidentally” kick Armin as they went. They glared at him as they tried to squeeze through the small space that was left, but didn’t say anything; probably because Eren looked murderous, but maybe because Mikasa was there.

He and Mikasa headed to English, free to bicker aloud now that Armin was out of hearing range.

“If you knew he had a test—“

“He’s not going to fail!”

“He was almost hyperventilating—“

“He’s overreacting! He’s not going to fail!”

“You’re such an idiot sometimes, Eren.”

Mikasa took her usual spot to his right despite her disproving look, which meant she wasn’t too mad at him. He sank down in his seat, arms crossed. He tried to pay attention; he really did. But he wound up staring out the window anyway. 

Mikasa snapped her fingers in front of his face when class was over and they silently walked to second period. Mikasa had managed to secure all of her classes with Eren and, even after two weeks of constant questions, refused to tell him how. It was a good thing, he knew, and their parents had been pleased, but it ticked him off nonetheless. 

He plopped gracelessly into his seat and prepared for another long hour of being unable to concentrate on his teacher. Connie and Sasha, who had made up again last Thursday in a dramatic display of hugs and apologies, came into the room and caught Eren’s attention.

“Yeah, but that shirt,” Sasha said, frowning as they took their seats. Connie turned around in his chair to talk.

“What was he thinking? Armin’s usually smar—”

“What the hell is wrong with that shirt?” Eren demanded.

He liked his Nike shirt. It was a nice blue color. It was comfortable and surprisingly soft from having been worn so often. Eren had held on to it after his growth spurt because his therapist recommended keeping something to remind him of the person he used to be for reflection later in life. It was a good shirt. He didn’t know why Armin, and now his classmates, seemed to dislike it.

Sasha and Connie looked startled and Eren couldn’t blame them. He rarely spoke to anyone besides Mikasa and Armin without it turning into some sort of confrontation.

“Well,” Sasha said nervously. “There’s nothing wrong with it, exactly. More that Armin’s the one wearing it.”

She looked at her friend for help.

“It’s a sports thing,” Connie said. “And the teams here don’t like Armin already. They might think he’s sort of mocking them.”

Eren leaned forward, brow furrowed. “Why would they think that?”

The two looked at each other helplessly, and relief flooded their features when the bell rang and the teacher strode into the room. Eren returned to staring out the window, ignoring Mikasa’s pointed look.

Armin got picked on a lot. He accepted this with more grace than Eren ever could have. It wasn’t just the football players and other sports teams, either. They were the worst offenders, but everyone pitched in with little things. People eyed him with distaste as he walked through the halls; Eren had heard the word “faggot” coughed or sneezed or outright sneered as Armin made his way to them during lunch; He had seen him be pushed out of the lunch line twice—not in a violent way, but nudged and shouldered until the line was moving without him in it. And, of course, the ones who kicked him on their way down the stairs.

The first time it had happened Eren had accepted it as an accident. He’d still yelled, “Watch where you’re fucking going,” because Armin wouldn’t, and the kid had stuttered an apology before hurrying off. But it had happened the next day, and the day after that, and Eren had almost launched himself at the next offender. Mikasa had stopped him and Armin had calmed him down, but thinking about it now made his fingers curl into fists until his nails were painfully cutting half-crescents into his skin.

It couldn’t be because Armin was gay. There were plenty of openly gay students and no one gave them the amount of shit Armin got. He would figure it out and put an end to it.

He wanted to ask Armin at lunch, but Mikasa elbowed him hard in the side and shook her head, so Eren kept quiet. It wasn’t too difficult. He felt lethargy creep up on him as he inhaled his food. He would definitely be talking to Erwin about switching his meds. He couldn’t stand feeling like a fucking zombie one moment and a hyperactive kid the next.

He and Mikasa watched Armin as his head turned from the hallway to his textbook to the open door of the classroom they sat in front of. He jumped every time someone walked by, muscles tensing, eyes flicking to the window from which he could see his tree.

Eren didn’t know why Armin liked that tree so much. There were a couple others around that would have been better for climbing. Armin’s tree was old and the lower branches had broken off some time ago, leaving splintered stumps in their place. There was only one branch that could be reached now, and Armin had warned him that it wasn’t very sturdy. Eren had tried hanging from it anyway, but dropped to the ground when he heard it creaking. Armin had smiled up at it like it was an old friend.

As they were walking to sixth period Eren noticed his friend trying to hide a limp and caught sight of Ymir, a long haired girl on the Junior Varsity football team, smirking at the shorter boy. He saw red. His feet moved him forward, his mouth worked on its own, his chest tightened with fury. Somewhere in the back of his mind he expected his sister, his savior, his fucking babysitter, to grab him and toss him into a classroom or drag him away because that’s what she did to protect him now.

_No more fighting, Eren. Not even if they deserve it._

Soft fingers wrapped around his wrist and there was Armin, pulling him back down to Earth. 

“She’s my friend,” he said, but he didn’t sound sure. 

Eren allowed himself to be pulled into a classroom, scowling at Ymir. She cocked an eyebrow and went back to talking to Christa, the sweet blonde haired head cheerleader.

He caught a glimpse of Armin as he headed off, head down, shoulders slumped forward, and he thought _I will fix this._

He didn’t know how he would fix this until two minutes before 8th period. Mikasa had continued to class after Eren ducked into the bathroom, twitchy and irritable. He walked into the empty hallway and there was the answer, staring him in the face. He didn’t hesitate. He probably should have; he wouldn’t be allowed on the football team next year if he was caught. He might not be allowed to return to school if he was caught. But Armin was anxious and sad, and it was Eren’s fault.

He pulled the fire alarm. 

Eren ducked back into the bathroom before students began streaming out of class. He waited until he heard the shuffling of many feet, barely audible over the screaming alarm, and slipped out of the bathroom and into the crowd.

Armin’s classroom was on the third floor tucked into the corner near the elevator, which meant that Eren had to push against the crowd to make it to the exit he needed. 

He walked through the door and the chill of autumn settled over his bare arms. It was getting closer to Halloween and the smell of dying leaves was in the air. It was the best time of the year.

He pushed his way through crowd of talking students until he saw Armin sitting on the ground, back against the chain link fence that boxed in the empty tennis court. Eren grinned down at him.

“Hey,” he said, startling his friend. Armin got to his feet in a smooth motion, hugging his textbook to his chest. “How’s that test treating you?”

Surprise crossed Armin’s face, followed by understanding, and then, finally, worry.

“Eren,” he said quietly, leaning in so no one else would hear. “You didn’t. You’ll get in trouble.”

That was not the reaction Eren had been aiming for. He was supposed to laugh, or at least smile. Eren was willing to bet he hadn’t smiled—properly, teeth showing, because something made him happy—all day. Another error in need of immediate correction.

“I’m not going to get in trouble,” he assured his friend. “Besides, who said I did it?”

His hand shot out and balled around the shirt of the person unfortunate enough to be standing within grabbing distance. He yanked the person forward, shoving his face in theirs, and said, “WAS IT YOU?”

And suddenly, mission accomplished. Surprised, if nervous, laughter bubbled out of Armin’s mouth. Light reflected off his braces and Eren felt very warm despite the chilly wind.

“What the fuck, Jaeger?” 

Unfortunately the person he grabbed was not a timid freshman, but Jean Kirschtein, a fellow Sophomore and captain of the Junior Varsity football team. Eren had given him a black eye the first day of school for calling him an idiot when Jean heard he was asking for a tutor. Mikasa had talked to him quietly and Jean hadn’t said anything to any of the teachers. They hadn’t gotten on very well after that.

He slapped Eren’s hand away, annoyed, and his eyes landed on Armin.

“Hey,” he said, and Eren wondered why he sounded guilty.

Armin’s laughter stopped immediately, and the smile fell off his face. He hugged his textbook tighter and stared at the ground. “Hi.”

“Jean, come on!” A hand landed on Jean’s shoulder and a freckled boy pulled him away to a circle of laughing students.

Armin sank back to the ground muttering, “I should study,” and Eren was left thinking _what the fuck?_

XXX

It got weirder. 

Unsurprisingly, it took the fire department a long time to arrive. By the time they were allowed back into the building there was ten minutes of class left. Principal Pixis spent them making an announcement over the loudspeaker about trouble makers and valuable learning time being wasted. Eren didn’t pay much attention. 

The last bell rang and Eren arrived first to room 117. He listened to the sounds of exhausted students leaving the building as he pulled out his homework (which Mikasa had helpfully written down for him). He stopped when he heard Armin’s voice outside the room. His ears perked up.

“I have a study session with Eren and then I have work,” he said. Eren walked towards the door and peeked out to see Jean facing Armin, an awkward expression on his face. “If you really want to talk,” there was that inflection again, as though he wasn’t entirely sure he was using the right word, “I’m free tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow works,” Jean nodded. “See you.”

Armin watched him go for a few moments, and Eren watched Armin with narrowed eyes. He scrambled back to his seat and tried to look nonchalant as Armin walked through the door.

“Hey,” Eren greeted, grinning. “I hear you have a big test or something tomorrow. Shouldn’t you be studying?”

XXX

“That’s an invasion of privacy, Eren. Don’t you think you should respect your friend’s decision to keep this to himself?”

Erwin was a tall man with broad shoulders and neat blond hair. His voice, deep and reassuring, sounded tinny through Eren’s speakers.

“Not if he’s wrong.” 

Eren sat on his bed, laptop balanced on a stack of his school books. His legs were crossed and his arms wrapped around a pillow; his usual position when talking to his therapist.

“Do you think this is because of your dream?” Erwin asked, undeterred by his patient’s petulance. “We’ve never discussed any romantic feelings you’ve had.”

Eren pulled his pillow closer and said, “It’s not like that.”

He hadn’t hesitated to tell Erwin his dream, but the man had not been helpful. All he’d said was “I haven’t studied dream interpretation very closely, but in my experience they mean what you make them mean.” And what the fuck was Eren supposed to do with that?

Erwin Smith was a good person and a good therapist, but sometimes he didn’t understand things. Eren accepted that this may be because he was shit at explaining them, but it didn’t change the fact that Erwin, despite his good intentions and calming demeanor, did not always give the best advice.

“Jean’s on the football team, and they’re the ones who give Armin the most shit,” Eren said when he realized the man was patiently waiting for him to go on. “Armin’s smart and fast, but if he’s jumped he won’t be able to fight his way out.”

“I see,” Erwin said, nodding slightly. “If that’s what you’re worried about, wouldn’t it be better to tell Armin your suspicions or, at the very least, bring someone along for help if things go badly?”

He considered this for a moment, tongue slipping across his lips thoughtfully, but shook his head. Armin wouldn’t want him to come; he’d say he could take care of himself, and the only person Eren could think to bring along was Mikasa. She would try to stop him, spouting out things about _respect_ and _privacy_ and _stalking_.

Erwin sighed. It was soft but still audible and Eren knew the subject was dropped. “Has the new medication gotten any better?”

“No. I want to switch,” Eren said flatly. They had been trying to find him new meds since he’d been expelled. The last ones had worked rather well, but after he’d lost ten pounds in a month and a half his parents had demanded a change.

“It can take awhile for your body to adjust,” Erwin reminded him. “It’s only been two weeks. If it hasn’t gotten any better by our next meeting we can talk about it.”  
Eren accepted this, resigning himself to another week of bouncing between extremes.

“I wanted to ask your permission to contact your counselor,” Erwin said, thumbing through a stack of papers on his desk. “I’d like to discuss your academic and social progress with him. You meet twice a month, right?”

Eren nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

“I won’t contact him if you don’t want me to,” the man said.

He knew this. Eren could say “fuck no” and Erwin wouldn’t. He might not ever bring it up again. He had spent years delivering on promises of all sizes to Eren in an effort to earn his trust, and he had never broken it once Eren hesitantly, reluctantly, suspiciously, gave it to him.

“You can,” he finally said. “But you can’t tell him. You can’t.”

Eren liked Levi, for the most part. He was sometimes infuriating and he didn’t seem to particularly like children, but he didn’t put up with any bullshit and Eren appreciated this.

Erwin nodded again, saying, “Of course not,” and left it at that.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jean looked as uncomfortable as Armin felt. He sat on the opposite side of the booth, picking at his food. It had gone cold long ago. He had spent the first few minutes opening his mouth to speak, closing it, opening it again, thinking better of it, and repeating the entire process all over. Armin could have began the conversation but he didn’t know what to say, either, and he was sure that, as bad as it was now, it would only get worse once the talking started.

He took a sip of his water and glanced at their waitress. She sat at the register reading a magazine, looking bored. The diner was completely empty but for the three of them.

“Shit,” Jean finally said. Armin started at the harsh sound and blinked at the boy across from him. “I had this whole—This was supposed to be easier.”

“What was?” Armin asked. “What are we doing here?”

“I, uh. I’ve been meaning to tell you for awhile. Since last year, actually. But you’re always so—I never saw you in the halls and we didn’t have any classes together and uh—“ He took a breath and, after a moment, said, “I never apologized to you for that day.”

Ah. That day. Of course. That day was the reason Jean never saw him in the halls, and part of the reason Armin had tested into all the AP classes he could. He didn’t like confrontation if he could avoid it, and avoid it he most certainly did.

“So, I’m sorry,” Jean continued. “I didn’t—“

“We were 12,” Armin interrupted, avoiding his eyes. “And I was the one who kissed you.”

He hadn’t planned on doing it. Jean had been so nice to him, helping him to the locker room instead of insisting he go to the nurse, who would send him home and make him miss the math test he’d studied for. Jean had laughed as he sat him on the bench, voice cracking as he said, “I can’t believe you managed to catch that after messing up your ankle,” and Armin felt pride swell within him because Jean, who always excelled at sports, was complimenting him.

He didn’t mean to. It wasn’t a conscious decision. One minute he was blushing and the next he had leaned forward, awkwardly pressing their lips together. It had lasted a second, maybe two because they were both frozen in surprise.

“Yeah,” Jean said, taking his first bite of food. “But I didn’t have to freak out on you like that. And everyone saw.”

The locker room door had, predictably, swung open at the exact moment their lips met, and their fellow 7th graders stopped, mouths agape. Jean hadn’t noticed, or maybe he had, but either way his hands pushed Armin away, his chapped lips letting slip the words, “What the fuck, man?”

And Armin’s world had ended.

“Everyone kind of ditched you after that, huh?” Jean asked, even though he knew it was true. Armin nodded anyway. He had never been particularly close with any of his classmates—he was too studious and shy—but suddenly there were malicious whispers and laughter wherever he went. Some people—the ones he’d known since elementary school—offered him a place to sit during lunch, only to ask prying questions and make fun of him. He preferred the outright bullying. 

“But, I mean, it kind of got me thinking, and I don’t know if I would have realized if it weren’t for that,” Jean continued. “So I guess I need to thank you, too.”

“Uh. You’re welcome,” he said when he realized that Jean wasn’t going to say anything else. He bit his lip, taking in how awkward the other boy still looked. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

“Uh, no,” he replied. “I wanted to ask you something.”

A long silence stretched before them. Armin tried not to squirm in his seat. Jean leaned forward, face intense, and asked, “How are you friends with Jaeger?”

“What?” Armin said blankly. “Do you want to be friends with Eren?”

Jean’s nose scrunched up like he smelled something foul. “God no. I mean how are you friends with him even though you’re into him?”

Armin felt dizziness overtake him as the blood rushed to his face. “I-I-I’m not—“

“Don’t give me that shit. Everyone knows.”

“Everyone?!” Armin’s voice was high pitched and cracked halfway through the word. Jean took pity on him.

“Everyone except Jaeger. The guy’s an idiot. I don’t know how you can stand him.” 

Armin had imagined Jean confronting him many times after that day. At first the scenarios had ended with Jean’s fists slamming into his face and stomach, but when that hadn’t happened it evolved into screaming insults and, when Jean had come out as gay freshman year, Armin had stopped thinking about it altogether. 

“Is this about Marco, Jean?” his mouth said, and his brain realized that hey, that was possible. When Jean tensed, eyes wide, it was confirmed.

Jean put his face in his hands and nodded miserably. “How do you do it?”

He sounded so small, but Armin didn’t know what to tell him. That he lay in bed at night, mentally cataloguing all the smiles and touches Eren had given him that day? That he closed his eyes and ran scenario after scenario through his head, imagining Eren’s reaction if he told him how he felt? That, when it wasn’t enough, he guiltily whimpered Eren’s name into his pillow? 

“You’ve been dealing with this longer than I have,” Armin said. Jean had been best friends with Marco since preschool. “How do you do it?”

Jean looked lost as he said, “I ignored it.”

“Can’t you keep doing that?” Armin asked hopefully; he was good at ignoring things. If Jean could do it, surely he could, too. His shoulders slumped when Jean shook his head. “Why not?”

“Because he keeps _smiling_ at me,” Jean groaned. The waitress looked up from her magazine for a moment but lost interest quickly. “And he always tells me what a good captain I am even though we’ve lost every single game and he has those stupid freckles and he says he won’t tease me if I tell him who I like but I _can’t_ and—“

He buried his head in his arms and continued, voice too muffled to hear. Armin waited patiently until he sat back up, awkward and embarrassed but better for having vented at last. He stared at Armin expectantly.

“O-oh,” he said. “My turn?”

Jean nodded. 

“Uh, well.” Armin bit his lip. Was he really going to do this? It was true that he didn’t have anyone to talk to about this, and it was slowly eating him up inside, but it was Jean. Jean, who he had spent three years avoiding, who was on the football team that made Armin’s life hell (though, admittedly, the Junior Varsity team didn’t bother him as much).

Jean, who looked incredibly pathetic across the booth.

“Eren—He, well, he always overreacts to make me laugh. And he remembered that I like Twizzlers even though I mentioned it like, once, and he, uh, he always—I mean, he almost attacked Ymir ‘cause he thought she kicked me and he’s always doing stuff like that.” God this was embarrassing. But Jean was nodding like he understood, so Armin continued, “He likes this show called Dexter and it’s kind of gory but it isn’t too bad, I guess, and he’s trying to get me to watch more so we can talk about it. He works really hard when we study and sometimes h-he licks his lips before he talks and—“

Armin couldn’t bring himself to go on. The two boys sat, red-faced, in the diner empty but for them and their bored waitress, finding comfort in their shared misery.   
After a long while Jean sighed and pulled out his wallet. He slapped a bill on the table and stood, saying, “You know, I really am sorry for freaking out on you that day.”

Armin was going to tell him that it was okay; they were both children who had barely started discovering girls, let alone boys. He was going to say that he might have done the same thing in Jean’s place.

He didn’t get a chance, however, because Jean leaned over and kissed him.

It lasted a second, maybe two, but that was long enough for their waitress to notice and stare, open-mouthed. Jean pulled back and smiled sheepishly. 

“Fair’s fair, right?” he asked, then turned and left. 

XXX

Eren couldn’t hear shit. He supposed it didn’t matter, because Armin and Jean didn’t appear to be doing much talking. They’d been poking at their food for ten minutes and Eren was growing bored.

He’d followed them here, to a shitty little diner down the street from their school, but hadn’t been able to follow them inside because the place was completely empty and Armin would definitely have noticed.

He sat on a bench across the street, staring through the diner window, newspaper in his lap in case he needed to hide his face quickly. He doubted it would work, but it would be less conspicuous than diving behind a trashcan. He wondered if he should go. Armin didn’t appear to be in any danger. But it could still be a trap. They might be waiting to rush him as he walked home.

So he stayed. They finally began talking. Eren could tell it was awkward and forced, and that Armin would rather be somewhere else. He briefly considered storming in and saving his friend, but remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know that this was happening.

That irked him. Armin was his friend. His best friend. His only friend, really, besides Mikasa, but she was… different. That wasn’t the point, though. The point was that friends weren’t supposed to keep things from each other.

He watched as they took turns turning red. It was almost embarrassing, watching them flounder like this. He once again considered heading home when Jean stood to leave. Eren tensed, sure that, if something was going to happen, now was the time. He had been prepared for fighting. He was always prepared for fighting, admittedly, but he had taken precautions this time.

He was not prepared to see Jean lean over and press his lips against Armin’s. Eren’s brain shut down for a moment, and he didn’t even remember to whip the newspaper up to cover his face when Jean walked out of the diner. It didn’t matter. Jean walked away quickly, not bothering to look around.

Shit. Fuck. Had he been spying on a date? Is that why Armin hadn’t told him about it, because he knew how much Jean and Eren disliked each other?

But no, yesterday Armin had said they could talk. He hadn’t mentioned a date.

Had Jean _tricked_ Armin into going on a date with him? 

Anger flared and Eren jumped to his feet. He would kill him. He would track him down—he couldn’t have gotten far—and bash his ugly fucking horse face into the ground. 

His feet were moving, but a flash of gold caught his eye and he stopped. Armin didn’t look upset. He looked like he was thinking hard, lip between his teeth, eyes on the ground, but he didn’t look upset. It was this that calmed him.

He wanted to go after him and ask what the hell that was about, but he wasn’t supposed to be here. Armin hadn’t told him, and so Eren wouldn’t tell Armin. Even though it felt weird and wrong, because they were friends, damn it, and friends told each other things; he was sure of it. He’d seen it on television. 

He used the bus to get home, the image of Jean and Armin’s lips pressed together burned into his mind. It made his stomach feel queasy. He didn’t know why. He’d walked in on guys kissing much more awkwardly than that at his old school and the only reaction he’d had was to yell, “Get your fucking tongues back in your own mouths! We’re supposed to be practicing!”

Mikasa ambushed him by the door. She allowed him to take off his shoes and jacket, then pulled him up to her room. Eren didn’t usually go in Mikasa’s room; if they hung out it was either in the living room, weight room, or Eren’s bedroom. 

She closed the door softly and turned to him.

“How’d your karate class go?” he asked, glancing at the door and wondering if he should be afraid.

“Mom said you were hanging out with Armin,” Mikasa said, ignoring this. “You weren’t."

“No,” Eren agreed. “Not technically.”

He told her what happened; what he saw. She listened without interrupting. Mikasa was good at listening. He forgot this, sometimes, because she didn’t offer often and Eren was too proud to ask.

“I don’t think it was a date,” she finally said, watching him carefully. “You shouldn’t have followed him, Eren. It’s weird. And—“

“Yeah, yeah. Respect, privacy, stalking. Got it. Why don’t you think it was a date?”

“Because he likes someone else,” she said simply, shrugging.

“What? Who?” Eren demanded.

She shrugged again and opened her door.

“Wait—“ Eren was cut off when he found himself on his ass, Mikasa’s closed door staring him in the face. He scrambled to his feet and pounded on the door. “Mikasa! Mikasa! Who is it?! Come on!”

He did this until his father came upstairs and told him to knock it off. He didn’t get an answer.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jean waved to Armin in the halls.

It was a small change. Miniscule, really. Barely noteworthy, especially when Armin had an uncertain expression scrawled across his face as he barely raised his hand in return and twitched it back and forth in a jerky wave of his own. After the first couple of times this happened he lost the uncertainty and even offered a smile. 

Eren told himself this was not anymore noteworthy than it had been before.

The bigger change was that Armin no longer led them to their morning and lunch spots by going the long way around. He still ducked into classrooms, or disappeared behind a crowd of students when he saw someone from one of Maria High’s many sports teams, but the roundabout ways he took were no longer necessary. 

On Friday as they walked to their spot on the stairs they walked past Jean’s group. He spotted Armin and smiled, raising his hand and, with it, Eren’s annoyance. He tossed his arm around Armin’s shoulder before he could wave back.

“Got any plans for Halloween?” He asked brightly. A sense of victory filled him as he saw, from the corner of his eye, Jean lower his hand with a frown.

“Eren,” Mikasa reprimanded. Her voice was steady; there was hardly any inflection at all. He doubted Armin heard it, and he pretended he hadn’t, either.

“No,” Armin said, looking up at Eren. “My family doesn’t really celebrate Halloween.”

“You should come over to our house,” Eren said, dropping his arm as they reached the stairs. He briefly considered plopping down next to Armin, but decided taking the stair below him and glaring at everyone who came up or down would deter most people from kicking his friend. “We watch horror movies and make cookies and stuff. It’s a whole thing.”

“I’m not really a fan of horror movies,” Armin said, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

“We only watch the really bad ones,” Mikasa said. Eren was too busy glaring at a group of students walking up the stairs to reply. “They’re not scary.”

“Okay,” Armin said, eyes flicking to Eren as he continued watching the top of the stairwell even after the group had disappeared. He looked back at Mikasa. “I’ll ask if I can come over.”

“We’re usually up pretty late. We don’t go to school the next day,” Mikasa smiled at him. “You could stay the night again if you wanted to.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t usually—“ He grunted as a foot made contact with his side.

“Sorry,” the guy muttered as he continued down the stairs.

Eren reacted without thinking. He stuck his foot out and caught the guy by the ankles. He fell forward, arms waving frantically as he tried to regain balance, and landed on his face with a harsh cry. As one, the students littering the hall turned to stare. He pushed himself to his feet and glared at Eren.

“Sorry,” Eren said, meeting his gaze steadily. 

Mikasa stood when the boy took a threatening step forward. Eren watched the display with boredom; he had seen this many times before, though it hadn’t occurred at Maria High nearly as much as it had at his old school. 

“Whatever,” the guy said, shouldering his backpack and storming off.

“Eren,” Armin said when the curious eyes had turned away. “You shouldn’t have done that. He could have been hurt.”

Eren felt his face twist into a scowl. “Maybe next time he’ll think about that before he kicks you.”

“He apologized,” Armin said softly, and the bell sounded immediately after.

Eren stood up and grinned at him. “He’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Armin gave a hesitant smile in return and they separated. Mikasa glanced at him as they walked down the hallway. 

“What?” he asked.

Mikasa had an incredibly annoying ability to make people feel like she knew exactly what was happening inside their heads. She often used it to find out.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m not taking notes for you today.”

“But—“ He was still having trouble concentrating. 

“Maybe next time you’ll think about that before you trip someone.”

Eren laughed.

“I’m serious,” Mikasa said, but she smiled anyway and bumped his shoulder with her own. “You’ve managed to keep yourself out of trouble for almost two months. This is a record.”

“We should celebrate,” Eren said. “What do you think? We could steal Pixis’ car. Or dye the mascot costume pink. Fix that one wall and see if people flip shit?”

Mikasa laughed, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth; a habit she’d picked up years ago, before her braces had come off. “How about we get some pie instead?”

XXX

He was aware of life continuing on around him; his teacher speaking in a bland voice about the slideshow on the screen, students behind him passing notes and giggling, Mikasa to his right, scribbling quickly despite her previous threat. He knew, vaguely, that these things were happening, but he couldn’t bring himself to be a part of them. He felt like he was watching from very far away.

He let Mikasa lead him from class to class until, finally, she led him to their lunch spot. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed his back against the lockers then pushed down until he slid into a sitting position. She placed his lunch on his lap and he stared at it. He ate mechanically until his food was gone.

“Eren? Eren! Eren!” Mikasa repeated his name until he was able to pull himself together enough to focus his eyes.

“What?”

“Maybe you should go home,” Mikasa said, frowning worriedly. “I’ll keep taking notes for you.”

“I’m fine,” Eren told her. “Right Armi—Where’s Armin?”

Mikasa jerked her head and Eren leaned forward to look past her. Armin stood in front of Jean and his friends, head nodding. Eren couldn’t see his face, but Jean was smiling. The freckled kid from the day he’d pulled the fire alarm glanced between Jean and Armin with either confusion or amusement; Eren couldn’t tell from this distance.

“Are you sure he’s not—“ Eren began, frowning at the scene.

“Positive,” Mikasa interrupted, pulling a book out of her backpack.

“But they’re—“

“Absolutely positive.”

“But what if—“

“100 percent positive, Eren.”

“Who does he like, then?” Eren asked as Armin turned back towards them. Jean and his clique began to walk away. The freckled kid nudged Jean with his elbow and jerked his head in Armin’s direction, eyebrows raised, a smile on his face.

Mikasa shrugged, but Eren wasn’t fooled. She knew. Of course she knew. He would get it out of her eventually. Until then, though…

Armin sat down and smiled. “Are you back with us, Eren? You’re gonna get your pills switched soon, right?”

“Yeah,” Eren said. “What’s up with you and Jean? Are you dating or what?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes the way she did every time Eren asked someone a question he’d already asked her. Armin stared at him for a moment as he processed the question, then his lips pulled back and he laughed until tears formed in his eyes.

“No,” he said when he calmed down. “We’re not dating.”

“Good,” Eren said. That Armin found the idea laughable raised his spirits. Mikasa raised an eyebrow at him and he continued, “What? Armin could do much better than that jackass.”

Armin smiled at him and Mikasa said, “So what did he want?”

The blond boy shrugged his slight shoulders and said, “We’re going to hang out on Tuesday.”

Eren wanted to ask why but the bell rang. He frowned, looking at the clock, and wondered how long he’d been picking at his food. Armin grabbed his backpack and departed with a smile while Mikasa and Eren gathered their things.

“You should go home,” Mikasa told him.

“Fuck that,” Eren said, throwing his backpack over his shoulder and taking off down the hallway with his sister by his side. “You’re buying me pie afterschool. And I have a study session with Armin.”

Mikasa frowned at him as they entered their classroom and took their usual seats, but she didn’t say anything. Eren settled in his chair and felt his mind slipping away from him again. The over excitement had died down this week, but that wasn’t a great thing when it was only replaced with more zoning out. At least when he was excited he was _there_ , fully present in the world, acting and reacting (or, more often, overreacting).

He couldn’t sit still, sure, and he felt a deep tiredness in his bones and a jittering, electric feeling running from his toes to his finger tips in his skin, but it was better than feeling removed from himself, head clouded with thoughts that were only able to be half-formed.

“Eren Jaeger.” 

It wasn’t his name that pulled him back to himself, but the way it sounded over the loudspeaker. For a second he was back at his old school, his principal’s resigned voice echoing through the building. Sometimes, if Eren had fucked up really bad, he wouldn’t say anything beyond “Eren Jaeger” because everyone knew what it meant. Eren had considered not showing up one time, just to see what the principal would do, but had decided against it because Mikasa had been glaring at him so fiercely he felt his skin crawl.

“Please report to the counselor’s office.”

The smirk that had crawled onto his face out of habit faltered. The counselor’s office…?

Oh.

Oh shit.

XXX

Eren stared at Levi’s closed door nervously. He wished Petra was here—she usually was when Eren saw Levi, walking out of his office with a smile and offering a cheery “hello, Eren.” Eren never commented on her frequent visits to Levi’s office because he liked Petra, for the most part, as much as Eren could like a teacher.

Taking a deep breath, Eren raised his hand and knocked on the door. A sign of respect, which Levi commanded easily. Had this truly been his old school he would have thrown the door open and strode in, taking his chair and sliding down, face set in an annoyed scowl, shoulders rolled forward; a perfect display of adolescent displeasure. He wouldn’t have bothered with it if he didn’t know how much it irked the principal.

“Come in,” Levi’s voice said, and Eren entered. He didn’t immediately sit, hoping this would be a short visit, but closed the door and took his chair when Levi motioned for him to do so. “You missed our meeting.”

“Yeah,” Eren said. “Sorry. I forgot.”

Levi was a short man, shorter even than Armin, but he had the look of someone you wanted on your side when shit went down. Eren wasn’t sure what exactly it was about him that gave this impression, but it was undeniably there.

“You’ve been present and on time to all our previous meetings,” Levi said. 

“I know. I just forgot. It won’t happen again.”

Levi glanced at some papers on his desk and said, “Your progress in class has stopped. Petra says you haven’t listened to anything she’s said this week.”

Eren remained silent. 

Levi sighed. “I can find a different tutor for you if—“

“What? Armin’s a great tutor!” Eren jumped to his friend’s defense. If Levi got him a different tutor Eren would surely fail; Armin was fucking fantastic at explaining shit, and he didn’t mind when Eren asked stupid questions.

More importantly, if Levi insisted on a different tutor, Armin would think it was his fault for being a bad teacher instead of Eren’s for being a dipshit. 

“I’m switching my meds soon,” Eren said. He didn’t like talking about his medication to people besides Erwin and Mikasa (and Armin now, too). He hated being looked at like he was broken or dangerous. “It’ll get better then.”

He wanted to go back to his old medication. He hadn’t wanted to switch in the first place, but everyone had gone on about how it wasn’t effective anymore, how Eren was getting more and more impulsive, how something needed to be done. 

“Your therapist mentioned that,” Levi said, and Eren stiffened. He stared at his counselor’s face, searching for any sign that Erwin might have told, but Levi met his gaze evenly. A tiny bit of guilt curled in his stomach. Erwin had earned his trust long ago, but Eren didn’t think he would ever stop searching for lies. “I think he was hoping the new medication would get better.”

“It hasn’t,” Eren said.

“Obviously.” Levi stood up and began clearing his desk. “You can go. Don’t miss our next meeting.”

“I won’t,” Eren said, standing. “Thanks.”

He left feeling irritable, but at least he wasn’t in trouble. With only a few minutes left of class he didn’t bother returning. Instead he found his feet carrying him towards Armin’s classroom. He waited by the door and scanned the faces of the students leaving after the bell rang. Armin was the last one out.

“Thank you. I’ll have it done by Monday,” he heard Armin say before he emerged from the room. He had a pleased smile on his face which grew into a grin when Eren’s hand reached out to ruffle his soft hair.

“Hey,” Eren said. 

“Why were you called to the counselor’s office?” Armin asked, pulling away and running his hands through his hair in an attempt to neaten it.

“I forgot I had a meeting with Levi at lunch. It’s fine now,” Eren said. “Me and Mikasa are gonna get pie after school. You wanna come?”

“I have work after school,” the boy said, looking disappointed.

“We can skip the study session today,” Eren suggested. “I’m not gonna be able to concentrate anyway. And you work at a bakery, right? Can we get pie there?”

“Yeah,” Armin said, smiling. “We have great pie.”

“Cool. You wanna come over this weekend? We can watch more Dexter or something.”

“Sure!” Armin beamed at him, and Eren thought that this shit day might turn out alright after all.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Armin stood outside of his friends’ house for the second time. He felt slightly less nervous than last time as his mom pulled out of the driveway and took off with a happy wave. As he walked to the front door he wondered how much this house had cost. Probably a lot, but that was to be expected. Eren’s father was a doctor and his mother worked as an interior decorator.

He rang the doorbell after a moment’s hesitation. He heard footsteps from inside and the door swung open to reveal Mrs. Jaeger, a warm smile on her face.

“Hello,” she said, moving aside so Armin could enter. “You’re a bit earlier than we were expecting. Eren’s downstairs. I hope you’re hungry. Lunch will be ready soon.”

She motioned to a door and headed back to the kitchen as Armin said, “Thank you, Mrs. Jaeger.”

He opened the door and walked down the carpeted stairs. He hadn’t been down here last time and wasn’t sure what to expect. From above he heard the fall of light footsteps and, as he reached the landing, Mikasa’s faint voice saying, “Was that the doorbell?”

He’d greet her after he found Eren, Armin decided. He stood in a dark hallway. A box of light fell onto the floor from an open room on his left. He walked towards it, wondering what that grunting noise was.

He stepped into the light and froze, eyes widening, mouth dropping open slightly.

The light came from a room filled with exercise equipment. Dumbbells of various weights lined the left wall; a much abused punching bag hung in the corner; the floor was made with some sort of padded material. 

And, in the middle of this room, was Eren Jaeger. He faced away from the door and, consequently, Armin, hands wrapped around a bar as he used his arms to pull himself up. Shirt off, shorts hanging low on his hips, back covered with a thin layer of sweat, black wires leading from his ears to his pocket. Armin felt his mouth go dry as he stood, frozen, watching the way the muscles moved as Eren went down and back up.

He dropped to his feet and Armin was smacked by reality. Eren would turn around and see him staring like this and he would know because how could he not with this stupid look on his face and everything would be over. His heart pounded loudly in his ears but he still couldn’t move, couldn’t stop this from happening, it would all be over in a second—

From his right, two hands thrust themselves out of the darkness. One covered his mouth, the other grabbed his shirt and pulled, yanking him out of the doorframe just as Eren began to turn.

“Mmphrma?” He said, voice muffled by the hand over his mouth, as he looked up to see Mikasa’s apologetic face.

“Come on,” She said quietly, letting him go and glancing at the room. She turned and walked up the stairs. Armin quickly followed, face turning red as the image of Eren burst to the forefront of his mind. 

Mikasa led him upstairs to her room and made no comment on the color of his face as she sat down on her bed. Armin busied himself with looking around the room so he didn’t have to meet her eyes.

“Very pink,” Armin observed. It wasn’t, really, but he hadn’t imagined Mikasa to be the kind of girl to have any pink in her room at all, so even the small accents of it threw him off.

Mikasa’s eyes flickered from her lampshade to her throw pillow to her rug. 

“There’s nothing wrong with pink,” she said. It was still calm, but her voice held the most defensiveness Armin had ever heard in it.

“N-no,” he said. “It’s nice.”

The slight tension in her shoulders disappeared and she said, “I let my mom decorate it when we moved in. It was supposed to be a bonding thing, but I don’t know anything about interior decorating and she works best when people don’t get in her way.”

“Ah,” Armin said, for lack of anything else to say. He and Mikasa had never really spent time alone, save for the times Eren had to run off to meet with Levi. When that happened they read in a comfortable silence. Every once in awhile one of them would make a comment, acknowledging the other’s existence. Armin didn’t know what to do. Mikasa didn’t look like she was going to pull out a book any time soon and Armin hadn’t thought to bring one.

“Eren’s straight, right?” Armin’s mouth said as his mind recalled his mother smiling gently at him. _You should find out_ , she’d said, and Armin hadn’t known how he was supposed to do that. He was an idiot. Maybe, if Mikasa could confirm it, Armin could take this stupid crush and put it in a metaphorical lockbox in his mind and forget about it.

She considered his question for awhile and said, “I don’t know. He’s never liked anyone before. As far as I know.” She added on the last part as though it was a formality.

“Oh,” Armin said.

“You could tell him,” Mikasa said, dark eyes assessing him.

“What?”

“Eren. You could tell him,” She repeated. “He wouldn’t mind.”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so,” Armin said, biting his lip and staring at his feet. “I’d rather not.”

Mikasa continued staring for a few moments, then shrugged her narrow shoulders. 

“It wouldn’t be as bad as you think,” She told him. When he didn’t reply, she said, “Do you watch anime?”

Sometimes Armin thought that Mikasa’s mind travelled in many different directions all at once. He went with it, though, and said, “No, I don’t watch much television.”  
She stood and grabbed her laptop off her desk. She put it on her bed, lay on her stomach, and patted the space next to her. “I think I know one you might like.”

XXX

Eren and Mikasa were media junkies. Armin had known this, in the back of his mind, but he didn’t really understand until he lay side by side with Mikasa on her bed, trying to read subtitles, watch the show, and listen to Mikasa explain and make jokes all at once.

Armin laughed along as the main character stripped (again) and dove into a pool. 

“Who takes their shirt off like that?” He demanded.

“It’s not easy, believe me,” Mikasa told him, and Armin laughed until he couldn’t breathe at the thought of Mikasa standing in front of her mirror, attempting to violently rip her shirt off and getting trapped in the process.

Armin’s desperate gasps for air set off Mikasa which, in turn, made Armin laugh harder. His side began to cramp. Mikasa’s hand covered her mouth, but didn’t muffle the sounds coming out of it.

“Are you watching that swimming thing again?”

The voice startled him so much he fell off the bed. He scrambled to his feet and saw Eren standing in the doorway. He had just gotten out of the shower; water droplets dripped from his hair and traveled down his neck to his shirt. He was smiling at the two of them but Armin couldn’t meet his eye.

Mikasa had successfully distracted him, he realized, but now that Eren was standing right in front of him he found himself returning to his previous blushing state. 

“You don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s a good show,” Eren told him, coming further into the room and ruffling Armin’s hair. He flopped on the bed next to Mikasa and propped himself up on his elbows, chin resting in his hands. “What episode are we on?”

“You’re getting my bed wet,” Mikasa told him. In response Eren shook his head, spraying Mikasa with water. She laughed, but pushed him to the floor anyway.

Eren didn’t waste time scrambling back onto the bed. He reached out and grabbed Armin’s wrist, pulling him onto the bed as well. “C’mon, this is only like episode two. You haven’t even got to the training part!”

It took a bit of maneuvering, but eventually the three of them lay side by side, staring at the computer screen. Mikasa pressed against the wall, Eren in the middle, and Armin trying to keep as much distance between Eren and himself as possible without falling off the bed. 

He miscalculated, however, and began tipping over the edge. Before he could even wave his arms in an attempt to regain balance, Eren’s arm was around his waist, pulling him back onto the bed and closer towards him. Eren withdrew his hand immediately. 

Armin didn’t try to scoot away again, leaving his side pressed against his friend’s. Eren was incredibly warm, like a person shaped heater. Armin chewed on his lip and attempted to calm his heartbeat. He tried, really tried, to focus on the show, but found it impossible.

XXX

Armin uncomfortably ate his lunch with a pair of green eyes watching him carefully. He didn’t like it when people watched him eat; it made him feel self conscious, so he took tiny bites and tried not to move his jaw too much. It made chewing difficult. Eren had been staring at him constantly and Armin wanted to ask why, but every time he tried the brunet said something outlandish, distracting him, or began to bicker with Mikasa.

“We still have a slice of pie left,” Mikasa said. “You can have it if you want.”

“No, thanks,” Armin declined. “I’m not really a fan of cherry.”

“Your grandpa is a wizard,” Eren declared, and the intensity with which he said it made Armin smile. “That pie is delicious.”

Armin’s grandpa had warmed up to his friends immediately, and had even given them a discount on the pie. He had taken a particular liking to Eren after he’d said, with perfect seriousness, that the pie was the best thing he had ever tasted.

“I’ll pass along the message,” Armin said, and hesitantly took another bite of his sandwich. Eren didn’t look away from him. He looked like he did when he was working on a complicated bit of homework but didn’t want to ask Armin for help.

“Why do you keep staring at him?” Mikasa asked, and for the first time in quite awhile Eren’s gaze shifted away from Armin. He took the opportunity to shove the rest of the sandwich in his mouth.

“I’m not staring,” he scowled.

“You are,” Mikasa said. “If you have something you want to say just say it.”

Armin quickly downed his glass of water while Eren was still giving Mikasa dirty looks. He set it down with a soft _clink_ as Eren looked back at him.

“What’s up with you and Jean?” He asked.

“Nothing,” Armin said, confused. They’d been over this yesterday, when Eren had asked, straight-faced, if they were dating. Armin had laughed until his eyes watered, his cheeks hurt, his side cramped, because it was hilarious that Eren thought it was possible for Armin to think about anyone else when it was Eren who occupied his thoughts so often it was probably unhealthy.

“Then why did he kiss you?!” Eren asked irritably, crossing his arms. After a second his face went slack—lips parting, eyes widening, cheeks growing red—as he realized what he said.

“How did you—Were you following me?” Armin was too surprised to be angry, at least for the moment. “Why?”

Eren sank lower into his chair and didn’t meet Armin’s eye. He grumbled his words and Armin had trouble understanding them. He was able to make out, “on the football team,” and that was enough.

Eren looked like he wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow him whole. He dared a glance at Armin’s face and dropped his eyes quickly. Armin wondered what was going through his mind.

“I appreciate the concern,” Armin said finally. Eren and Mikasa looked at him, surprised. “Jean and I have known each other since pre-school. If I’d thought it was a trick I wouldn’t have gone.”

“Okay, but why did he kiss you?” Mikasa asked curiously. 

Armin managed not to blush, thankfully, and shrugged. “I think it was a closure thing? I’m not entirely sure.”

“Closure?” Eren had sat back up and leaned forward now that it was clear Armin wasn’t going to start yelling, or whatever he’d expected. “Why does he need closure?”  
Mikasa was leaning forward too and Armin wished he hadn’t said anything. “I, well. I kissed him. In seventh grade. It was kind of a big thing back then, but everything’s fine now.”

There was a moment of contemplative silence, then Eren said, with a look of disgust, “You kissed him? _Why_?”

Armin couldn’t answer. He was too busy laughing.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

Four months ago, Eren had agreed to move with no protest, partly because he didn’t have any ties to his old home but mostly because he didn’t feel like having his parents lecture him again. The day they’d moved in to their new house in Shiganshina they had told him he was no longer grounded, though he did have a very strict curfew and if he got into any more trouble, however small, he would be grounded once more.

The first time they’d moved Eren had screamed. He had cried and fought, small limbs flailing as angry tears burned his eyes until Mikasa had held him down and pressed her forehead to his own. Her tears fell on his face and she was crying for a different reason, and Eren had pressed his lips to her cheek because he couldn’t move his hands or legs.

Eren had moved to Shiganshina prepared for three more years of pointless classes and obnoxious peers. Dull, boring, colorless, but at least Mikasa was by his side and once he made the football team things would be bearable. 

He had been prepared for nosy teachers, stupid drama, staying up until three in the morning finishing essays that would have no impact on his life past their due date, getting “acquainted” with the principal, disappointed looks from his parents, and kissing his counselor’s ass.

He had not been prepared for Armin Arlert.

The boy in question currently sat on the floor, elbows resting on the coffee table, eyes glued to the television where Eren’s favorite serial killer went through the motions of everyday life. Eren lay on the couch directly behind his friend, alternately watching the show and attempting to do his assigned reading.

“I love this part!” Eren said excitedly. Armin jumped, but he refocused his attention after shooting him a smile. 

Eren watched the screen intently as the scene played out, then tried to go back to reading but found his eyes drawn instead to his friend. He remembered, quite suddenly, the feeling that had started somewhere around his stomach and spread to his fingertips, his toes, his ears, when he’d stared up at him that first day, after being knocked to the ground. That feeling when everything finally clicked into place. The same one he’d felt when he’d first seen Mikasa, small and fragile and scared, laying on the old wood floor.

He remembered, with embarrassment, how long he’d stared up at Armin’s face, eyes travelling from forehead to nose to cheeks to lips to chin as though they’d seen the sight a thousand times before. 

Eren forced his eyes back to the book and read, though the words didn’t stick. 

Armin made attending Maria High school more than bearable. Their thrice weekly study sessions helped Eren understand his class work, which made actually being in class much less stressful. At lunch they sometimes managed to do a little bit of homework, but mostly they laughed at things that seemed very stupid later. 

This was a new experience for him. While Mikasa did have a sense of humor it was mostly dry, whereas Armin laughed at awful puns and exaggerated movements and stupid faces and shitty jokes. 

Years ago, back when Mikasa still woke up screaming, Eren had accepted that it would always be the two of them. He was happy for it, for her to be in his life, even though he couldn’t stop the feeling that something was missing.

But then Armin had slotted himself into Eren’s daily routine, and there was an easy camaraderie between the three of them like they’d known each other forever.

“Eren,” Mikasa said, snapping him out of his thoughts. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen, eyebrows raised.

It took him a moment to realize why. His hand stilled, fingers entwined in soft blond locks. He glanced at them and realized that the tip of Armin’s ear was pink, which meant that his face was, too (and Eren couldn’t blame him, this was fucking embarrassing) but he was looking away, probably in an attempt to hide it. Eren didn’t know why. If he hid his face every time he blushed Eren wouldn’t know what he looked like.

“What?” he said, and dragged his fingers through Armin’s hair once more in an awkward defiance. Of what, he wasn’t entirely sure.

Her eyes were on Armin, and her look was calculating. It made Eren nervous.

But all she said was, “we should make dinner for mom and dad tonight. Will you help, Armin?”

Eren was going to tell his sister to stop being rude (Armin was a guest, after all), but the boy jumped to his feet and said, “Sure!” in a nervous voice, and then he was shuffling past Mikasa into the kitchen.

“They won’t be hungry,” Eren said, scowling and bringing his book up to cover his own pink face. Their parents had left a few hours ago for their Saturday date night with a stern warning of, “No parties.”

Armin had laughed, but he’d been the only one. 

“It was only one party,” Mikasa had said at the same time Eren mumbled, “It was only one window.”

Armin hadn’t quite known what to make of that. Eren had distracted him with Dexter.

“Well then they can eat it later,” Mikasa said, walking away.

Eren’s scowl deepened and he went back to his book. Or tried to, anyway. The sound of clattering reached his ears and he glanced towards the kitchen. 

No. Homework. He was shit at cooking, anyway.

Light laughter drifted out of the room and Eren threw his book down onto the coffee table. He strode towards the kitchen and peered in, keeping himself hidden lest Mikasa spot him and put him to work.

“We could make desert, too!” Armin said excitedly. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail with one of Mikasa’s hair ties, and he was tying an apron around his waist. A few strands of hair, too short to be captured, fell into his face. “Do you have chocolate chips? We can make cookies!”

Mikasa pulled out ingredients from the fridge and cupboards. She had put her hair into a messy bun held in place by a pencil and some sort of witchery, no doubt. 

“Hi Eren,” Armin said, spotting him. “Are you going to help?”

Eren reluctantly stepped into the kitchen, ignoring Mikasa’s smug smile, and shrugged. “I can’t really cook.”

“Everyone can cook,” Armin said with a grin. “We’re making stuffed lasagna shells. Can you chop up some onion, please? We only need two tablespoons.”

Eren washed his hands first, because he wasn’t completely stupid, and said, “What’s with the hair?”

Armin’s hand reached up to fiddle with the stubby ponytail. “I didn’t want it to get in the food.”

“It’s nice,” Eren commented, and busied himself with chopping up the onion. 

Cooking wasn’t too bad, he supposed, as long as Armin was there to direct him. He’d had cooking disasters in the past; on one occasion the fire department had been called. On another the kitchen had flooded. His family didn’t talk about it much.

It wasn’t like Mikasa was a great cook either, though. Her food always came out undercooked, somehow, but her attempts were far less disastrous than his. Eren took comfort in knowing that she wasn’t good at _everything_. She followed Armin’s instructions with only a few questions.

“Okay, now add the paste, sauce, salt, oregano, and garlic powder to the skillet.” 

Armin did very little of the cooking himself. When Eren teased him about being lazy he grinned and called it a learning experience. He watched them work with a soft smile, tapping his slender fingers absentmindedly on the countertop.

“Who taught you how to cook, Armin? Your grandpa?” Mikasa asked when they left the kitchen. The shells needed to bake.

“My dad,” Armin said. He had taken the apron off but his hair remained in a ponytail. It did look nice like that. Little wisps of hair framed his face but didn’t hide it. Eren reached up and flicked it, laughing when Armin gave him a weird look. “He says that every man should be able to cook well because it’s the fastest way to get a woman to fall in love with you. Joke’s on him, I guess.”

Armin smiled and Mikasa elbowed Eren in the side, saying, “because he’s gay.”

“I knew that,” Eren said, elbowing her back.

“My grandpa taught me a lot too, though,” Armin continued, ignoring their increasingly violent nudges. “I’ve helped out at the bakery since I was little. Last year he said he might as well give me a paycheck and—Eren! Are you okay!?”

Mikasa slammed into him and he went flying. The small side table joined his flight and he landed on the ground with an “oof” and a sharp pain in his chest where the corner of the table hit. He pushed it off, scrambled to his feet, and launched himself at his sister. He used his shoulder to smash into her. She fell back against the wall and grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing?!” 

Eren stopped struggling to get out of the headlock and looked up at Armin’s frantic face. A laugh tumbled from the brunet’s mouth and he wasn’t surprised to hear one echoing from Mikasa as she released him. He righted the table and Mikasa replaced a picture that had fallen off the wall.

“We were just messing around,” Eren grinned, bumping into the boy on his way past so that he fell backwards onto the couch. Eren took a seat next to him and grabbed the remote. “We do that.”

“Eren usually loses,” Mikasa told the blond, taking a seat as well. 

“Only because she’s been taking martial arts classes since she was nine,” Eren told Armin in a quiet voice so Mikasa couldn’t hear.

“Aren’t you guys worried about breaking something?” Armin asked. He had relaxed when he realized they weren’t serious; the tension had left his shoulders and the panic drained from his voice. He only sounded idly curious now, and blinked up at Eren with big blue eyes.

“Mom doesn’t care,” Eren shrugged, turning his gaze to the television.

“As long as we don’t get blood on the carpet,” Mikasa added.

“You guys are awful,” Armin said, but he laughed anyway. Eren felt warmth spread through him, and lifted his feet onto the couch, sliding them behind his friend who made no comment. He grinned at the screen and settled in, content with the thought that this is how it was supposed to be. The three of them, together.

XXX

They wound up eating all of the lasagna shells themselves. Armin felt bad but Mikasa shrugged it off, much to Eren’s annoyance. Why had they even bothered making them, then? They could have just ordered pizza or something.

Their parents returned sometime around nine and greeted all of them with smiles. They tricked Armin into a conversation about school, but he didn’t seem to mind much so Eren didn’t intrude. At first, anyway.

“Come on, let’s play Mario Kart,” Eren said when his patience broke. He grabbed Armin’s wrist and led him upstairs.

“I should be getting home, Eren,” the blond said, but he didn’t put up any resistance as Eren dragged him into his room so he set up the game anyway. He didn’t know why Armin didn’t just spend the night again. What was the big deal if he just went home tomorrow? But he had adamantly refused when Eren offered, saying something about a test and studying and the importance of a good GPA. Eren relented, but only because he knew he couldn’t pull the fire alarm every time his friend had a test.

“Mom?”

Eren turned around with a frown to see Armin speaking into his cell phone. 

“Yeah. Can you come pick me up? Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Thanks. I love you too.” He hung up and smiled at Eren. “She’ll be here in about half an hour. We can play until then?”

“Yeah,” Eren said, tossing him a controller and flopping onto his bed. “Are you gonna be Toad again?”

“Are you going to be Yoshi again?”

Thirty minutes went by with much swearing from Eren’s end, and vague threats from Armin’s, and soon Armin was walking out the door and Eren was trying not to sulk. 

“See you Monday,” Armin said, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, Armin!”

Mikasa followed a split second later, having bolted down the stairs, and slammed the door behind her, but not before saying, “Get lost, Eren.” Eren narrowed his eyes and, crouching, made his way to the window. He pushed it open slightly and quiet voices floated to his ears.

“—only thing I could think of, sorry,” Mikasa said softly, almost gently. It was always weird when Mikasa was gentle. 

“That’s okay, I didn’t mind,” Armin’s voice replied. Eren imagined him staring down at his worn tennis shoes, teeth gnawing on his lower lip. “Thanks.”

There was a moment of silence and then he said, “But, next time, i-if there is a next time, do you think you could… not?”

What?

“Oh.” Mikasa sounded surprised. “Yeah. Okay. I’m sorry. You looked—“

“Yeah,” Armin interrupted, and there was another silence. “Um. I’ll see you Monday.”

“Yeah. See you,” Mikasa said, and Eren shut the window quietly and ran up to his room before she could discover him eavesdropping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things to cover here:
> 
> 1\. I'm sorry this took so long. I've been working through some personal stuff as well as trying to deal with school and writer's block.
> 
> 2\. I've decided to make the chapters longer. I hadn't intended for this story to be so long, but it kind of got out of hand and now I have a bunch of plans for it but I don't want it to have a ridiculous number of chapters. This means that they're probably going to take a bit longer to be written, but hopefully not as long as it took this one.
> 
> 3\. Shingeki-not-okay drew fanart for this fic and you should look at it because it's really cute: http://shingeki-not-okay.tumblr.com/post/66351667313/unworthy-fanart-for-such-a-wonderful-fic-read
> 
> 4\. I'm not really happy with this chapter, but I hope you like it. Thanks for being so patient, and for all the encouraging comments.


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